HIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f 



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THE EVENING TWILIGHT, 



AND 



THE GLORIOUS DAAVNING. 



BY THE LATE 

REV. THOMAS APPLEGATE, 

AUTHOR OF 

*THE VOICE OF SACRED TRIPLES," "THE FRUITS OF THE SPIRIT," SACRED 
GEOGRAPHY AND HISTORY," "THE PRECIOUS GIFT," ETC. 



FIRST THOUSAND. 








WETHERSFIELD SPRINGS, N. Y. 

L. W. APPLEGATE. J 

1873. 










The Library 

O^ CONGRKSS 
WASHINGTON 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 

BY L. W. APPLEGATE, 

in the.Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



STEREOTYPED BY 

THE CLAKEMONT MANUFACTURING CO. 

Printed by Bound by 

The Claremont Manuf'q Co. The' Claremont Manup'g Co. 

Claremont, N. H. 



PUBLISHER'S NOTICE. 



We feel particular pleasure in placing before the 
public a fourth volume of the writings of the late Eev. 
Thomas Applegate. This work complets a set of valu- 
able literature ; and we feel confident that in the pres- 
ent form they will be of increased profit to the reader, 
and will receive the same attention which the former 
volumes have attracted. 

The first part of this volume is designed to illustrate 
the time in the Christian's life, when he is standing on 
the brink of the river of death, soon to be borne to the 
opposite shore. The latter part treats of the glimpses of 
the new Jerusalem, which have been given us in the 
" Eevelation of St. John, the divine." As the former 
part illustrates the evening of our mortal existence, so 
the latter looks upon the dawning (which is indeed 
glorious) of the entrance into life eternal. 

The chapters of this work will be found very interest- 
ing and instructive to the devout reader. With these 
few words we leave the work in his hands for perusal. 

A. 



CONTENTS. 



THE EVENING TWILIGHT. 



CHAPTER I. 

Page. 

Life's Evening Twilight . . , . 7 

CHAPTER II. 
Present Duty and Future Prospects . . 17 

CHAPTER III. 
Present Sufferings and Future Glory . 39 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Temporal and Eternal .... 58 

CHAPTER V. 
The Brevity of Life ..... 73 

CHAPTER VI. 
Dim Glimpses 89 

CHAPTER VII. 
I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY .... 102 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Faded Leaf 117 

CHAPTER IX. 
Intrepid Faith 133 

CHAPTER X. 
The Swelling of Jordan .... 151 



VI CONTENTS. 

THE GLOKIOUS DAWNING. 



CHAPTER I. 

Page. 

Heaven Opened 3 

CHAPTER II. 
The Better Country 23 

CHAPTER III. 
Many Mansions 41 

CHAPTER IV. 
Perfect Happiness 69 

CHAPTER V. 
The Tree of Life 80 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Eainbow 97 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Things above 117 



^HE J^VflNINQ ^WILIQHT. 



TWILIGHT A'KD DAWKIKG. 



CHAPTER I. 

LIFE'S EYEisrma twilight. 



The close of the day is prefigurative of the close 
of life. The two are intimately assimilated, instruc- 
tive and impressive. The hour of evening twilight 
is full of pathos and power. It suggests reflections 
of a pensive character, and disposes to solitude. — 
Isaac went out into the fields at eventide to meditate. 
The general placidity that then prevails is favorable 
to abstraction. All is hushed, as if Nature were slum- 
bering. The angry winds have ceased to blow. Not 
a leaf trembles in the breeze. Not a wavelet dis- 
turbs the smooth surface of the lake. The din of 
the tumultuous city is silenced, and the toil-worn la- 
borer hies himself home. The sun, dipping below the 
horizon, and tinging the clouds with a golden purple, 
has just performed a course of beneficence and utili- 



8 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ty^ and breathes with his departing beams a diffusive 
air of blessedness and repose. The setting orb mar- 
shals us on the way we ought to go, and tells us that, 
having passed the fervor and vigor of our existence — 
the morning and noon of our appointed pilgrimage — 
the evening of our life should set in mild and gener- 
erous quietude at its close ; with every earthly ardor 
softened, and with the loveliest hues of heaven ming- 
ling in its farewell light. The scene instinctively 
points us to the bright realms of another world ; 
and as we follow the receding luminary, in thought 
and imagination, into the regions of interminable 
splendor, we think of the scenery of the heavenly 
country, the happiness of spirits glorified, the man- 
sions of everlasting rest, the seats of enduring delight. 
We feel that God has prepared for us, in the bright- 
ness of His presence, unutterable joys ; so far excell- 
ing all created good as the effulgence of the setting 
sun exceeds the glimmer of a distant star. 

The hours of life's little day seem to fly more 
swiftly after we pass the meridian. 

" The more we live, more brief appears 
Our life's succeeding stages." 

The revolution of the seasons occurs with accelerated 



life's evening twilight. 9 

speed. The golden visions of youth, fade and become 
dim. The sun's rays strike us horizontally. The 
shades of evening deepen. The broad space, and the 
brighter prospects are compressed into a narrow com- 
pass, and the horizon shuts down around us till its 
diameter seems only the length and breadth of the 
grave. The aged pilgrim, standing in the evening 
twilight, is rarely anxious to endure the heat and 
burden of the day afresh. His spirit, mellowed and 
chastened, longs for the wings of a dove to fly away 
and be at rest. His palate is tasteless to the world's 
sweets. His eyes are dim to the world's glare. His 
ears are deaf to the music of earth. His treasure is 
in heaven, and he prefers to depart and be with 
Christ, which is far better. 

The evening brings with it decrepitude and infirm- 
ity. When David said to Barzillai, come and live 
with me at the palace, Barzillai answered : ^^ I am 
this day four-score years old ; and can I discern be- 
tween good and evil ? Can thy servant taste what 
I eat or what I drink ? Can I hear any more the 
voice of singing men and singing women ? Let thy 
servant, I pray thee, turn back that I may die in my 
own city, to be buried by the grave of my father 
and of my mother." 



10 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

The desire to die at home, and be interred in the 
family vault, is generally all of earthly preference 
that now remains. The pleasures of expectation 
have ceased ; there is nothing to hope for. " The 
clouds return after the rain. The keepers of the 
house tremble. The strong men bow themselves.'' 
The active limbs are feeble. That other disciple, 
who outran Peter, can no longer creep from his 
couch ; any one can bind him, and carry him whither 
he would not. " The grinders cease because they are 
few, and those that look out of the windows be dark- 
ened.^' The eyes are dim. The landscape is blurred. 
The world is misty ; the doors are shut in the streets. 
The avenues of audience and utterance are closed. 
Soft sounds can no longer be enjoyed. Whispers of 
affection are not heard. There is terror in that which 
is high, ^^ and fears are in the way.^' The mountain- 
side is formidable. The grasshopper is a burden, and 
desire fails. The frail nature we inherit is encom- 
passed with a cloud of infirmities, which develop 
themselves the more painfully, as the sands of life 
are running out. 

We read in one of the Gospels of a certain woman 
who had been healed of a spirit of infirmity. Her 
spinal cord was contracted, and she was bowed down, 



life's evening twilight. 11 

and could in no wise lift up herself. St. Matthew in- 
forms us that ^^ when even was come/' the people of 
Capernaum brought unto Jesus many that were pos- 
sessed with devils, and He cast out the spirits with 
His word, and healed all that were sick. The Lord 
selected the hour of evening twilight as an appropri- 
ate occasion for the display of His benevolence and 
power. How holy and precious the instruction ! Is 
it the twilight of life with you, on whose behalf we 
would implore the compassion and help of the 
Saviour ? Is the sun of your existence now receding 
into the deep shades of night ? Do you utter the 
plaintive cry: ''Woe unto us, for the day goeth 
away, for the shadows of evening are stretched out ?'' 
Hope in God, for you shall yet praise Him for the 
health of His countenance. '' At evening time it shall 
be light." Bring afresh the objects of your solicitude 
in faith and love to Jesus, and " your light shall rise 
in obscurity, and your darkness be as the noonday." 
The soul has its infirmities as well as the body. 
The constitutional peculiarities are of many colors. 
The temperament of some is naturally warm, excita- 
ble and impetuous ; the feelings ardent and impuls- 
ive ; the affections fervent, and sensibilities strong : 
the temperament of others is cold, phlegmatic and 



12 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

immovable, having but little of the emotional, and 
requiring an overwhelming calamity to arouse them 
to ft^eling. Some men are accustomed to view every 
subject through a medium of depression and gloom. 
They never look upon the bright and cheerful tints 
of life's landscape, but love to ruminate upon its dark 
and sombre lines, and dwell with morbid pleasure on 
the unpromising and hopeless. Others are so san- 
guine that they live in a world of illusion and ro- 
mance : they leap to conclusions without adequate 
premises ; they assume facts without proper data ; 
they are credulous, unsuspecting and confiding, and 
take for granted what should only be accepted on 
demonstration. Now all these are so many infirmi- 
ties — plague-spots on the character, which we should 
deeply deplore. It is an infirmity to be too enthu- 
siastic ; to be too cold ; to be too confiding ; to be 
too suspicious ; to be too fascinated with the. sunn\, 
golden and mellow tints of the picture, and equally 
so to be mentally absorbed and depressed with its 
shaded and gloomy coloring. ^^ This is my infirmi- 
ty,^^ may be said of each. 

Solomon assigns the manifold infirmities of old age 
as a cogent reason for embracing and exemplifying 
religion in eaily life. ^^ Remember now thy Creator 



life's evening twilight. 13 

in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come 
not, nor the years draw nigh when thou shalt say, I 
have no pleasure in them/' Those who pass youth 
and manhood irreligiously are almost sure to find the 
evening twilight come joylessly. The last years of 
an ungodly man are a Terra del Fuego, where the 
weather never clears, but is one constant drizzle. The 
cup of his earthly happiness, which was full to the 
brim, has leaked out all its contents. The world 
has proved itself to be a broken cistern. The warm 
sun-beams no longer cheer his pathway. The win- 
dows are darkened, and the street-doors closed ; and 
he feels dulness and deadness, sickness and sadness, 
languor and stupor pervading him. The effort to 
win his attention to the claims of his Creator now is 
like discoursing on important themes to a sleepy sub- 
ject. He replies : Every thing fatigues me ; desire 
fails, my heart is weary, my soul is heavy ; leave me' 
to repose. Give the Sayiouk your heart, dear reader, 
while you have a heart to give. Tender Him your 
warmest affections before they grow dry and arid. 
Yield to the sweet accents of His soothing voice, as 
He speaks through your mother, the Church. 

" Now in thy youth beseech of Him, 
Who giveth, upbraideth not, 



14 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

That His light in thy heart become not dim, 

And His love be unforgot. 
And thy God, in thy darkest days, will be 
Greenness and beauty and strength to thee, 
And the cross, which was stained with blood for thee, 
Secure to thy faith the victory." 

Godliness in youth is like the sun rising on a fine 
summer morning, to shine through a long, bright 
day : while religion in old age is like the evening star 
that appears as the day is closing. One of the poets 
of the last century has a poem entitled : " Strife in 
Heaven.'^ It represents the company of the redeem- 
ed, discussing with perfect good feeling the question, 
Which of them was most indebted to the grace of 
God for his salvation. There were two among the 
number that appeared to have claims for the greatest 
weight of obligation so nearly balanced as to render 
it difficult to decide which owed the most. One was 
a glorified spirit, converted in old age ; the other 
had been pious from his youth, and spent a long life 
in the service of God. The former contended that 
his forgiveness, after a protracted course of rebellion, 
made him the most signal monument of God's saving 

mercy Except myself, added the other, who was 

prevented by God's grace from falling into the vor- 
tex of iniquity, and enabled to consecrate my life 



life's evening twilight. 15 

to God's service and glory. There is no doubt that 
the happy throng declared the justice of the younger 
seraph's claim, and decided that they owe most to 
God's mercy, who are disposed to give Him their 
hearts in the morning of life. 

There is nothing we need to learn or feel more pro- 
foundly, than that the morning is the index of the 
evening that follows. If the moral mists and fogs are 
not scattered from the mind before noon, the whole 
day is usually cloudy. The impressions acquired in 
early life invariably strike the deepest and last the 
longest. The present moment is, therefore, the in- 
tensest period of your existence. The passing hour 
may be the point on which your eternity will revolve. 
" Seek the Lord while He may be found ; call upon 
Him while He is near." "Acquaint now thyself 
with Him and be at peace, and then good shall come 
unto thee." The young men of the world will be 
seen a few years hence, each leaning on his staif for 
very feebleness. But " they that wait on the Lord 
shall renew their strength." Clouds and darkness 
may overshadow them ; but they have sunny seasons, 
and beyond this stormy region blessed prospects. 
The more rapidly they are clothed with the snows of 
age, the sooner they will renew their youth in the 



16 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

realms of immortality. Sir Walter Scott says : ^^How 
different is every thing in the latter stages. There 
is some new subject of complaint every moment. 
Sickness comes thicker and thicker, and sympathizing 
friends fewer and fewer. Death has closed the long 
dark avenue upon loves and friendships, and I look 
at them as through the grated door of a burial-place, 
filled with monuments of those who were once dear 
to me, with no insincere wish that it may open to me 
at no distant period, provided it be the will of God. 
I shall never see the three-score and ten, and shall be 
summed up at a discount. No help for it, and no 
matter.^' The sainted Wilberforce, who was contem- 
porary with the celebrated novelist, expressed sur- 
prize, as he reached the evening of his useful career, 
that his life had been spared so long ; and then soon 
after, when his only surviving daughter died, he 
wrote : ^' I have often heard that sailors on a voyage 
will drink : ' Friends a-stern,' until they are half- 
way over : then, ^Friends a-head.' With mo it has 
been ' Friends a-head,' this long time.'' 



CHAPTER II. 

PRESENT DUTY AND FUTUEE PEOSPEOTS. 



It is only when men feel deeply that they act with 
energy. The mere calm contemplation of an object 
avails but little in calling forth the energies of the 
soul to secure its accomplishment. The object must 
first of all have a strong hold upon the heart. It 
must break up the deep fountains of feeling^ and 
bring the mind under the influence of high and pow- 
erful excitements. Animated by such an influence^ 
men have gone forth to the successful prosecution of 
enterprises^ the difficulty and danger of which^ under 
other circumstances^ whould have caused every eff'ort 
to look like childish folly and presumption. Though 
this feeling of our nature has been perverted by de- 
pravity, yet in itself the feature is God-like. Its 
prototype is found beautifully in Him, Who is the 
perfection of excellence. Incarnate love enthroned 
now holds the sceptre of universal dominion ; and, 
with an eye that never sleeps, and with an arm that 



18 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

never wearies, is engaged in carrying forward to their 
consummation the purposes of infinite benevolence. 

The same affection, so characteistic of Deity, He 
has made the brightest ornaments of the Christian 
character, as well as the impulsive motive to every 
duty required of us as His followers. We have some 
happy illustrations of its efficacy in the lives of the 
Apostles and primitive Christians. Borne aloft by 
the Saviour's love, they counted not their lives dear 
to them, so that they might finish their course with 
joy. The adversaries of Christianity construed their 
zeal into fanaticism, and their fervor into a monoma- 
nia ; but, as a justification of their procedure, they 
replied : " Whether we be beside ourselves it is to 
God, or whether we be sober it is for your cause ; 
for the love of Christ constraineth us.'' 

St. Jude, in his epistle, commands us : " Keep 
yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, unto eternal life." 

The first part of this Apostolic injunction regards 
our present experience, '^ Keep yours'elves in the 
love of God. Whether the allusion of the Apostle 
is to God's love to us, or our love to Him, is unim- 
portant. The means employed to pr(3mote the one 
will secure the other. The advice presupposes the 



PKESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 19 

outgoing of this affection from our own hearts, and 
that we aim to promote its increase by constant com- 
munion with its object at the throne of grace. To 
keep alive so sacred a flame, amid the host of un- 
friendly influences that combine to quench it, is an 
arduous task. But as it is preserved vigorous and 
glowing, self-sacrificing and abiding, the other graces 
of the Christian character thrive in equal proportion. 
The love of God is the same to the mind in judging 
of right and wrong, truth and error, that a delicate 
ear for music is to harmony, or the possession of the 
requisite qualifications of speech to our speaking and 
acting with propriety. It is thus represented by the 
Apostle in his epistle to the Philippians : " And this 
I pray, that your love may abound more and more in 
knowledge and in all judgment, that ye may approve 
things that are excellent'' ; (or rather, that ye may 
try things that differ). This is the life-blood that 
flows through all the veins of genuine Christianity. 
The heart can be subject to no influence richer in the 
purest enjoyment. Its tendency is to mould, insen- 
sibly, the character to the image of the object loved. 
Beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, we 
are changed into the same image, from glory to glo- 
ry, by the Spirit of the Lord. The conformity, as 



20 TWILIGHT AND DAWNIIsG. 

far as it prevails, makes us one with Christ, identify- 
ing our interest with His interest, and our glory with 
His glory. It elevates our thoughts and wishes above 
the current of this world's attraction, and associates 
us with the destinies of eternity. 

When we love inanimate objects we are conscious 
of no such influence exerted on the mind. We may 
love a garden of flowers, a murmuring stream, a sun- 
ny bank, a humble cottage peeping forth from con- 
cealment. We may love a splendid landscape, teem- 
ing with varied grasses, and be able to say of it : 
This is the prospect over which my eye and imagina- 
tion are fond of expatiating. But the inanimate 
never reflect back again the love we bestow on them. 
They remain motionless, without will, and without 
sensibility ; and are loved purely on account of their 
loveliness. There is no mixture of selfishness in 
their composition. They do not put on a sweeter 
smile to one person than to another, but the several 
features of beauty in which they are arrayed stand 
inflexibly the same to every beholder. With our fel- 
low-men, who are the objects of our affection, the case 
is different. If we love them for their compassion or 
benevolence, we generally find that it meets with a 
warm reciprocation, and is returned with interest in- 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 21 

to our own bosom. Yet the ever-loving and adora- 
ble Jehovah loved us when we were most unworthy ; 
when we had not a single quality to elicit it ; when 
we were enemies to Him by wicked works^ and had 
wandered far along the paths of alienation and death. 
He loved us with a love of kindness and commiser- 
ation that devised a remedy to save us. Such love 
of tenderness on His part very naturally and proper- 
ly calls for the love of gratitude on ours. He has 
done what is pleasing and gratifying to us. What 
shall we do to please and gratify Him ? The answer 
is definite, the injunction is entire : " Thou shalt love 
the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all 
thy soul, and with all thy strength." But for this di- 
rect and positive announcement, we should be contin- 
ually in danger of compromising our Maker — plan- 
ning and scheming how little we may love Him, and 
how much we may venture to withhold from Him, 
without forfeiting our safety. The measure of affec- 
tion is elsewhere explicitly defined by one emphatic 
word employed by Christ — more than Me : '' Whoso 
loveth father or mother, brother or sister, wife or 
children, more than me, is not worthy of me.'' The 
religion which He inculcates distinctly recognizes the 
existence of human relations, and seeks to strengthen 



22 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

and intensify^ by purifying, elevating and immortal- 
izing them. All these ties of attachment — the pa- 
rentalj the conjugal, the filial — are to have full- play 
in linking heart to heart ; but ever to be maintained 
in profound subordination to Himself, and to be so 
sanctified and employed as to become auxiliaries and 
aids to the higher and purer affections of supreme at- 
tachment to the Saviour. We must see to it that 
we enjoy the creatures in Him, and glorify Him in the 
creature. 

The honor thus claimed for Christ can be shown, 
directly or indirectly, in your avocations, whether it 
be in the counting-room or in the mart of trade. 
The integrity with which you discharge your com- 
mercial obligations is an acceptable service. The 
father of a family may not be always thinking of his 
children^ but he gives the most unequivocal evidence 
of his affection for them by his assiduity to meet 
their necessities. So the love of God in the heart 
must be equally an abiding motive ; not a fancy nor 
a sentiment — nor an evanescent emotion ; but a 
principle, calm, steady, undecaying, enduring, pro- 
gressive. 

It was once a problem in mechanics to fina a pen- 
dulum which should be equally long in all weathers, 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 23 

SO as to make the same number of vibrations in the 
summer's heat and in the winter's cold. This is now 
accomplished by a process of compensation, which 
makes the rod lengthen one way as much as it con- 
tracts the other ; the centre of the motion being al- 
ways the same. The pendulum swings the same 
number of beats in January and in June ; and the 
index travels over the dial-plate with the same uni- 
formity, whether the heat try to lengthen, or the cold 
to shorten the propelling power. 

The lesson we wish to draw from this is an illus- 
tration of principle, unaffected by surrounding cir- 
cumstances ; principle like the compensation rod, 
which neither lengthens in the languid heat, nor shor- 
tens in the brisker cold ; but does the same work day 
after day, whether the ice winds whistle or the si- 
moon glows. Of all principles, the high principled 
affection for God is the steadiest and the surest. 
Other incentives to action may falter at the time we 
need them. The smile of our friends was wont to 
be our recompense for the attentions we showed them. 
But many of them have gone where neither our indus- 
try can enrich them, nor our kindness comfort them. 
Some few that remain are not what they once were. 
The magic light has faded from their countenances. 



24 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

The mysterious interest that hovered over them has 
gone up like a mountain mist^ and left them in their 
wintry coldness or natural ruggedness. They are 
certainly no longer the persons we took them to be. 
But Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day and 
forever. He is unchangeable in all vicissitudes ; and 
therefore intense, unconquerable love to Him is equal- 
ly an abiding motive that may never lose its power, 
till reason has lost its seat. Christ is our life, and 
our growth in spiritual life is Christ increasing with- 
in us. Every day's history ought to bring out new 
aspects of His loveliness, and discover reasons why 
we should love Him more now than we ever loved 
Him before. 

When the people were probing among the shatter- 
ed ribs of a certain chieftain for the fatal bullet that 
laid him low, a French veteran exclaimed : "A little 
deeper, and you will find the Emperor.'' So the 
deepest affection in the heart is the supremacy of love 
to Christ. Deeper than the love of home, deeper 
than the love of kindred, deeper than the love of 
country, deeper than the love of life, is this love of 
Christ. If other spells have lost their charms ; if 
other names of fond endearment cease to interest ; if 
other loves no longer constrain., and other persuasives 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 25 

have no power^ there is that in ardent love to the 
Saviour which makes the timid bold^ the stammer- 
ing eloqnent, and the slothful diligent. There is a real 
heartedness about it which refuses to let a much lov- 
ed Saviour go^ even when the palsied arm of affection 
is no longer conscious of the benignant form which it 
embraces. It holds on true to its object, amid out- 
ward and inward desolation. It is the same when 
the glassy eye has forgotten to sparkle, and the joy- 
ous heart can no longer mantle on the withered 
cheek. This was the love which made Paul and Si- 
las, famished as they were, sing praises to God at 
midnight, in the dreary prison. This was the love 
which burned in the Apostle's breast, when buffet- 
ing the Adriatic's wintry brine ; and which made the 
work awaiting him at Eome beam like a star of hope 
through the drowning darkness of this dismal night. 
This was the love that thawed his pen, when the 
moan of chilling winds caused him to miss the cloak 
which he left at Troas. This was the love, which 
impelled him to write a testamentary entreaty to 
Timothy, to hold fast the truths that were hastening 
him to martyrdom. Aim to possess this love in 
full and vigorous exercise, and you possess the main- 
spring of success in every laudable enterprise, and 



26 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

exhibit that pervasive spirit, without which the 
seemliest exertions are an elegant futility. Seek to 
be eminently GoD-loving and CHRisT-loving disci- 
ples : and give all diligence to keep yourselves in the 
love of God. The tenor of this advice pathetically 
appeals to you in every circumstance of life. 

The weekly recurrence of the Sabbath, with its 
rest for the body and the mind, its hours of sacred 
worship, and its richly freighted blessings, is vocal 
with this godly instruction. The Sunday is an in 
stitution whose object is to mould us so completely 
after the mind and will of God, that it seems as if it 
were a fraction of heaven let down to earth — a hand- 
ful of. heaven's sunbeams — a magnet dropped from the 
skies to draw us up to our native regions. It spreads 
for us, one day in seven, a feast for the soul ; and as 
it visits, and then leaves us, its message is ever the 
same : ^' Keep yourselves in the love of God.'' 

The precepts and promises of the Bible, its warn- 
ings and threatenings, its eloquence and poetry are 
all designed to awe and solemnize us on this great 
subject. 

The dangers that assail us morally, spiritually and 
physically — the treachery of friends — the insidious ma- 
noeuvring of enemies — the frowning aspects of Prov- 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 27 

idence — the blasting of schemes of business — the re- 
moval by death of dear and attached friends — all 
these are so many admonitions to assure us that 
there is no safety in any condition^ except as we 
give heed to the counsel : '^ Keep yourselves in the 
love of God." 

Whatever the afflictions we may be called upon to 
sustain, or the comforts we may be privileged to en- 
joy — the storms that may beat upon our spirits, or 
the sunshine that may smile upon our pathway — 
whatever adversities or success may be assigned us, 
they knock at our doors with the lessons of caution 
or encouragement : " Bleep yourselves in the love 
of God." 

The whole history of the past is specially adapt- 
ed to inculcate, and to keep vividly before the 
mind so important a subject. It may be that to you 
it has been a period of prosperity and sunshine. It 
commenced with inspiring music ; it has been con- 
tinued in music, and the sweet notes of music still 
vibrate on your ears. The light of God's counte- 
nance and smile upon your exertions made you suc- 
cessful in business, and assigned you an elevated 
position in the social fabric. The goodness of God, 
specially vouchsafed, made you fortunate in your 



28 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

plans^ and now whispers^, in soft and touching ac- 
cents : " Keep yourselves in the love of God/' 

It may be that your lot can only be read in chap- 
ters of change, loss and bereavement. Dark clouds 
and deep waters have been your portion. The fair 
sky which you anticipated has been covered with the 
blackness of night. The castles, which you built in 
the air, have been scattered like the baseless fabric of 
a vision. The dearest and best beloved have been 
swept from the domestic circle into the dust of the 
grave. The images of the dead are painfully crowd- 
ed into the chambers of memory. The faces, which 
were accustomed to glow around the Christmas fire- 
side, are fewer than formerly. The happiest home 
has had some clouds pass over it. The sunniest 
circle has had shadows flit occasionally across it. 
Eveiy Christmas song has some melancholy mi- 
nor moaning through it. And in every condition 
there is an interchanging of shade and sunshine to 
make us serious and grateful, and press home upon 
us the seasonable admonition : " Keep yourselves iu 
the love of GrOD.'' 

The injunction regards also our future expecta- 
tions — ^^ looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus 
Christ unto eternal life!' The feeling of expectancy 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 29 

exerts a powerful influence on the human mind. Pla- 
to affirms : '^ There is more pleasure in the pursuit 
of an object^ than in the possession of it.^' Applicable 
as this may be to some things in this present life, it 
has no meaning in connection with the things of the 
life to come. We know full well that the man of 
the world delights himself with a thousand fancied 
and imaginary joys, seizes the glittering bubble, 
grasps at a shadow, builds on the sand and leans for 
support on a bending reed. Often does his heart 
beat high in hopes ; and expectations are fondly and 
confidently cherished, which, by some sudden and 
unforseen calamity, are dashed in a moment to the 
ground. Wrecks of fair hopes innumerable are seen 
floating on the sea of human life. Thousands, who 
set sail with a fair wind and a bright sky, their can- 
vas spread, and their spirits buoyant, hoping soon to 
reach the port where fortune smiles, have been driv- 
en back by storms and tempest, and lost all their 
joyous prospects in the gloom of darkness and deso- 
lation. 

In the voyage to the heavenly rest there is no 
such hazard. Those in quest of eternal life have no 
such calamity attending them. They have a pilot 
on board who controls the elements. They have an 



30 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Omnipotent Saviour Who has pledged Himself never 
to leave them ; and they have the promise of an 
abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom. 

The pleasures of that life eternal surpass the pow- 
ers of conception. It is a life of holiness, without 
the taint of corruption — a life of happiness without 
the mixture of pain — a life of light without the brood 
of darkness — a life as imperishable as the being of 
Jehovah. 

The flowers of paradise are always in full bloom. 
The tree of life has no autumnal tint, no withered 
leaves ; the foliage is always green. The seasons 
bring no nipping frost, no burning heat, no un- 
healthy atmosphere, no blasting mildew : the climate 
is eternally salubrious. If the inhabitants of that 
country had only a doubt of their endless felicity, 
^^ that ghastly thought would drink up all their 
bliss/' But eternal life ! What arithmetic can com- 
pute it ? It exceeds, in point of duration, years 
more numerous than the stars that twinkle at mid- 
night, the sands that float upon the sea-shore, and 
the leaves of all the forests of the globe. If God were 
to require an insect to carry away this world to the 
sun, and to take only one small particle of it in a 
million of years, what a number of ages would roll 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 31 

away before it could remove a city, a single hill, or 
even an edifice ! What time it would take to carry 
off every particle of earth, and every particle of wa- 
ter that compose it ! Yet this would be a mere speck 
of duration when compared with that boundless fu- 
ture that admits no termination. 

The poor shrivelled life that we now live, stealing 
noiselessly away, is a mere hand-breadth, a tale 
that is told. We live in tabernacles of clay, and the 
graves are waiting for us. Slender is the thread that 
detains us on earth. It is already in a state of un- 
ravelling, and will soon snap : the pangs of fatal dis- 
ease fasten upon our vitals with a firm and relentless 
hold. Not all the fortifications we can throw around 
the citadel of life will arrest the progress of the de- 
stroyer. The cold hand, which has stopped the vital 
current of so many generations, is thrusting its icy 
fingers into the fountains of life in our own bosoms, 
and feeling after our very heart-strings. When we 
die, very few will care about us ; and the world at 
large will care nothing. A little circle of friends 
will be deeply affected, just as a little circle of water 
is agitated when a drop of rain falls upon it. There 
may be some considerable emotion at the centre of 
that circle, and some genuine tears of grief shed ; but 



32 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

the emotion will be fainter and feebler at every re- 
move, until at a short distance there will be no agita- 
tion at all. 

" The gay will laugh 
When thou art gone ; the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one as before will share 
His favorite phantom." 

A few friends will go and bury us, and then they 
will turn away to their farms and their merchandize, 
forgetful that we are sleeping in the grave. Affec- 
tion may rear a tablet, and plant some flowers, and 
visit, with pensive mood, the spot where our dust re- 
poses ; but in a short time the hand that raised the 
stone, and the fingers that planted the flowers will 
be motionless. The little hillock will be smoothed 
down, and neither friend nor stranger will be concerned 
to ask : " Who lies there T' The world will be 
busy ; the sun will shine ; the rain will fall ; the 
winds will blow ; the storm will rage ; the notes of 
pleasure will be heard ; but to us they will be as 
though they were not. 

" On our grassy grave, 
The men of future times will careless tread, 
And read our name upon the sculptured stone j 
Nor will the sound familiar to their ear 
Recall our vanished memory." 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 33 

There is only one thing which can buoy up the 
mind in the prospect of so gloomy a fate — the mercy 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Grospel, as a sys- 
tem of mercy, is conspicuous in the whole plan of re- 
demption. It shines in every page of the book of 
life. It is inscribed on every blessing of the everlast- 
ing covenant. It encircles the penitent from the 
depth of his degradation, in a state of nature, to the 
heights of his exaltation in the realms of glory. It 
prevails from the first glimmer of hope before the cross 
to the full blaze of immortality before the throne. The 
boon of mercy is exclusively from Christ. He pro- 
cured it ; He proclaimed it ; He confers it, and He 
communicates it, in larger and higher degrees, till, 
like rivers flowing into the ocean, it issues in eternal 
life. 

The first exercise of mercy that loe look for when 
we leave the body is an immediate admission into 
the unveiled presence of Deity. This is what we 
call : ^' The intermediate state ; " the state to which 
the souls of the righteous depart in their disembod- 
ied condition, and are with Christ in joy and felici- 
ty until they receive their perfect consummation of 
bliss at the resurrection. The pious dead find rest 
for their souls in the climes of goodness. " I heard 



34 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

a voice from heaven^ saying unto me, Write, Blessed 
are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : 
Yea, saith the spirit, that they may rest from their 
labors, and their works do follow them." 

The next stream of mercy that we are to look for 
attends the second coming of Christy when the pious 
dead shall be raised, and the living changed. The 
great and mysterious change, which is destined to 
take place on the material frame, will then be accom- 
plished. The ashes of the sleeping saint will be re- 
collected, re-animated, and once more look beautiful 
and bright. The Saviour will change our vile bod- 
ies, and fashion them like unto His own glorious 
body, " according to the working whereby He is able 
even to subdue all things unto Himself For, If we 
believe that Je^us died, and rose again, even so them 
also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him. 
For this we say unto you, by the word of the Lord, 
that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of 
the Lord shall not ^ prevent' or (precede,) them which 
are asleep. For the Lord Himself shall descend 
from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the arch- 
angel, and with the trump of God ; and the dead 
in Christ shall rise first : then we which are alive 
and remain shall be caught up together with them in 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 35 

the clouds^ to meet the Lord in the air ; and so 
shall we ever be with the Lord/' 

The coming of Christ is the grand theme which 
the Holy Ghost proposes for our meditation, and 
presents to our faith. The strongest motive to watch- 
fulness and prayer^ to separation from the world, 
and holiness of life is drawn, not from our going to 
Christ at death, but, from Christ's coming to us in 
personal glory, Mark the impressiveness of the Apos- 
tle's language, " Waiting for the coming of the 
Lord Jesus.'' ^' I pray God your whole spirit, and 
soul and body be preserved blameless unto the com- 
ing of our Lord Jesus Christ." " We beseech you 
by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by 
our gathering together unto Him." "Be patient 
therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord." 
^^ For the coming of the Lord draweth nigh." " Look- 
ing for the blessed hope, and the glorious appearing 
of the great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ." 
This is the prospect which of all others is the most 
awakening to the soul. It presents to the expecta- 
tion of the saints all that is to be loved and desired 
in the person of our blessed Lord. Gaze upon the 
scene, we entreat you, as sketched by a master's hand, 
and say, which is the most pleasant and attractive 



36 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

and hopeful ; the dread approach of the grim king 
of terrors^ or the coming of Christ in the clouds of 
heaven. 

For His coming, then, let us be looking. The event 
is not distant, when it will be realized in all its rich- 
ness. The Lord is at hand. All things betoken 
His near approach. The projohecies are being ful- 
filled ; the nations of the earth are disintegrated ; 
society is in a ferment : and the avarice and infideli- 
ty of men are just what our Lord declared should be 
the last sign of His coming. We know of no greater 
intimation of its nearness than the apathy and un- 
belief that are so generally felt with regard to it. 
Where is the promise of His coming ? is the scoff'er's 
inquiry. But when they shall say, Peace and safety, 
then sudden destruction cometh upon them. We 
believe that we are now standing on the verge of the 
first resurrection from the dead. Blessed are they 
that have part in the first resurrection. "Of that' 
day and hour knoweth no man : no, not the angels in 
heaven.'^ " But we know that when Christ who is 
our life shall appear, we also shall appear with Him 
in glory." We know that when He shall come upon 
the lightning's wing, or upon the eddying air — at 
mid-night, or at mid-day — the sublime spectacle will 



PRESENT DUTY AND FUTURE PROSPECTS. 37 

be attended with most awful and startling severances. 
One in a family will be taken and another left. The 
mother or the daughter, the father or the son will be 
snatched up to meet the Lord in the air, and the 
other left to perish in the flames. 

Prepare to meet your Gtod. Place your whole 
trust and confidence in His mercy. Pray that you 
may be found of Him in peace, without spot and 
blameless. Gird up the trailing robe. Trim the 
waning lamp. Nerve the trembling arm. Eouse 
the drooping heart. 

" "Watch ; 'tis your Lords command ; 
And while we speak, He's near ; 
Mark the first signal of His hand. 
And ready all appear." 

The stream of mercy 'beyond this pertains to the 
general judgment. The scenery of that grand exhi- 
bition is graphically painted by St. John in the twen- 
tieth chapter of the Eevelations. There is no hu- 
man language half so magnificent. Oratory, rheto- 
ric, poetry and imagination are all beggared by its 
simple grandeur. ^^ And I saw a great white throne, 
and Him that sat on it, from whose face the earth 
and the heaven fled away ; and there was found no 
place for them. And I saw the dead, small and 



38 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

great, stand] before God ; and the books were open- 
ed : and another book was opened, which is the 
book of life : and the dead were judged out of 
those things which were written in the books, accord- 
ing to their works/' Toward that huge assembly of 
immortal beings, the most rigid justice will charac- 
terize every procedure. Every mouth will be stopped, 
and not one solitary tongue dare to arraign the equi- 
ty of the Lord. Words, thoughts and actions will 
be weighed* and scrutinized with the profoundest ac- 
curacy, and every secret purpose made manifest. 
The faithful only will find acceptance in that terrible 
ordeal. As believers in Christ, having followed 
Him in the regeneration, they will not come into 
condemnation or judgment. There is no condemna- 
tion to them that are in Christ Jesus. The day of 
judgment will be the day of their acquittal ; and, sit- 
ting with Christ on His throne, they will become 
judges themselves, both of angels and of men. The 
saints shall judge the world. 

The necessary preparation for that solemn crisis is 
expressed in the phraseology of the text : keep your- 
selves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of 
our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. An ex- 
pectant attitude becomes us in the closet, in the fam- 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 39 

ily, in the Church, in the world ; in sorrow and afflic- 
tion, in trial and bereavement, to the last and at the 
last. ^^ Blessed are those servants, whom the Lord 
when He cometh shall find watching.'' 



CHAPTEE III. 

PRESENT SUFFEEmOS AKD FUTURE GLORY. 



There are few things in the world of which men 
form so false an estimate as the calamities of life. 
They are commonly viewed by the thoughtless as 
among the unlucky accidents that are incident to the 
constitution of affairs, and that, in process of time, 
will pass away. Should they happen to fall sudden- 
ly, and with more than ordinary severity, they are 
apt to have the effect of plunging such persons still 
deeper into the ocean of folly ; and thus they will seek 
to alleviate their misery by the means which tend to 
produce it. The more reflecting portion of our com- 
munities are accustomed to regard their afflictions as 
evils which they are compelled to bear, because they 



40 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

see no way of escape from them. The barbed arrow 
they carry in then' sides from scene to scene, and 
from place to place ; and while they suffer they re- 
pine and refuse to humble themselves^ and to bear 
the rod of Him who appointed it. 

With the Christian, when visited with chastise- 
ments from the Almighty, the case is widely differ- 
ent. He feels as intensely and as acutely as others, 
but his sorrow is moderated by a never-failing princi- 
ple of faith, that yields peace and comfort, even when 
the tempest is sweeping abroad in the wildest fury 
of its desolation. The cup which his heavenly Fath- 
er puts into his hand, he drinks with submission, be- 
cause he knows that it is intended for his welfare. 
He views it as a clause in the everlasting covenant, 
and as a link in the chain of providences that is 
working for his good. Often has he besought the 
Lord to purge away his sins, to brighten his graces, 
to purify his affections, to crucify him to the world, 
and to prepare and preserve him to His heavenly king- 
dom ; and this is one of the methods to which the 
Most High has recourse in the accomplishment of 
these objects ; for He has said : " If my children 
forsake my law, and walk not in my judgments ; if 
they break my statutes, and keep not my command- 



PRESENT SUFFEBINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 41 

ments ; then will I visit their transgressions with a 
rod, and their iniquity with stripes : nevertheless my 
loving kindness will I not utterly take from them, 
nor suflfer my faithfulness to fail/' 

Paternal chastisements are therefore the fruits of 
God's faithfulness and love. " Whom the Lord 
loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom 
He receiveth/' It is this persuasion th^t enables the 
stricken Christian to acknowledge : I know that this 
affliction comes from the hand of a Father who loves 
me, and who does not grieve willingly the most way- 
ward of His children. He sees clearly that I need it. 
He sees that if His chastening hand were not upon 
me, I should be continually starting aside like a 
broken bow. I bless Him for the tribulation, and 
my daily prayer is, that it may work that holy and 
sanctifying influence upon my heart, that shall ren- 
der me meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of 
the saints in light. There is in the cultivation of 
these feelings a most complete subjugation of self to 
the principles of truth ; and it is the character of such 
invocations to extract the sting from every trial, and 
sweeten the bitterest visitation. But this considera- 
tion does not stand alone. There are others, equal- 
ly availing and flowing from the same source, that 
tend to make the afflictions of earth both light and 



42 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

momentary. The most influential of these is the 
certainty we enjoy, that in all our losses we still 
possess something which we cannot lose. We can 
say, Tinder the darkest cloud ; ^^ My beloved is mine, 
and I am his.'' We can adopt the language of the 
Apostle : " Nothing shall separate me from the 
love of Gob, which is in Christ Jesus my Lord.*' 
The strength of this principle has been displayed 
with the happiest effect in all ages of the Church. It 
was sweetly and powerfully operative during the per- 
secutions of the martyrs. Among other instances 
recorded by Fox, there is one of a pious woman, 
who, when taken before her persecutor, and threat- 
ened that her husband should be put to death, re- 
plied undauntedly, " Christ is my husband.'' When 
told that her children should be taken away, she said : 
'^ Christ is better to me than ten sons ;" and when 
assured that she should be robbed of every comfort, 
and stripped of her raiment, she had faith to re- 
spond : ^^ Yea, but Christ is mine, and you cannot 
strip me of Him." The consciousness that she had 
of a saving interest in the Kedeemer enabled her to 
maintain her steadfastness, amid the terrors of her ad- 
versaries, and to come off more than a conqueror 
through Him that loved us 

Our subject speaks of present sufferings and future 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 43 

glory. Human nature, like the sons of Zebedee, 
would like to enjoy the last, but it would wish to 
be absolved from the first. This, however, is an utter 
impossibility. The law of the present dispensation is 
this : '^ In the world, ye shall have tribulation. '^ 
The law of the future is, ^^ There remaineth a rest 
for the people of God.'' The world's doom is, " Woe 
unto you that laugh now, for ye shall weep.'' The 
destiny of the Christian is^ ^^ Blessed are ye that 
weep now, for ye shall be comforted." St. Paul had 
the experience of both states in a manner so peculiar, 
and to such an extent as was realized by no other in- 
dividual ; and as one who had made the experiment, 
and was fully competent to pronounce the verdict, he 
says, I reckon on — I make the calculation^ " that the 
sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be 
compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us." 
The sufferings which fell to his lot to endure, as de- 
lineated by himself, and recorded by those who wit- 
nessed them, seemed to have been almost unparallel- 
ed in multitude and intensity. From the Jews five 
times he received forty stripes save one ; thrice was 
he beaten with rods ; once he was stoned ; thrice he 
suffered shipwreck ; a night and a day he was in the 
deep. He had sufferings of all sorts on the sea and 



44 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

on the land^ in the city and in the desert ; in hungei 
and in thirst ; in cold and nakedness ; in watchings 
and fastings ; in perils among robbers, and in perils 
among false brethren — Jews and Grentiles, open foes 
and professing friends, added to his cup of sorrow, 
which he drank to the dregs. 

Nor was he less distinguished by the visions and 
revelations that were so graciously vouchsafed to 
him, both as a Christian and an Apostle. He had 
been caught up into Paradise, received into the 
third heavens, seen the vision of the Almighty, 
breathed an atmosphere, beheld a sunshine, and been 
baptized into a glory so effulgent and overwhelming, 
that his eloquent tongue was unable to express what 
he saw and heard. If it were, therefore, in the power 
of any man, from personal observation, to make the 
calculation with mathematical precision, we venture 
to affirm it was he who so keenly suffered, and was so 
highly favored. 

To the sufferings of this life, the glory of the next, 
and the comparison of the two, we propose, in the 
discussion of this subject, to give a cursory glance. 

The sufferings of this life. The allusion is more 
particularly to the sufferings that are peculiarly at- 
tached to the Christian character and experience. 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 45 

As the disciple of Christ has joys with which a 
stranger intermeddleth not^ so he has sorrows with 
which others are perfectly unacquainted. 

There are sufferings that are acutely felt^ on ac- 
count of the ebullitions and workings of indwelling 
sin. This enemy of all righteousness, that lurks in 
ambush, the Christian hates with perfect hatred, and 
he wrestles and prays against it with unceasing solic- 
itude. If sin should get the advantage of him as it 
sometimes does, and he is thrown down and defiled, 
it is the occasion of anguish that is greater still. 
David calls it the anguish of broken bones. It is 
often the agony of a broken spirit. 

There are sufferings to sensitive minds from an op- 
posing and persecuting world. The time has never 
been, when the world has loved the pure gospel of 
Jesus Christ. It dislikes it on account of its claims 
and restrictions, and the reproofs which it adminis- 
ters against the unfruitful works of darkness. The 
most eminently pious persons have usually been the 
most roughly assailed. They have had trials of cruel 
mockings and scourgings ; yea, moreover, of bonds 
and imprisonments. They have been stoned ; they 
have been sawn asunder, tempted, slain with the 
sword. The instruments of death have been tasked 



46 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

to their utmost capabilities in the infliction of tor- 
ture, giving a fearful meaning to the declaration, 
" we must through much tribulation enter into the 
kingdom of God/' 

There are seasons when the Christian suffers in- 
tensely from the fluctuations of experience. The light 
of the Di\dne countenance is withdrawn ; the stimu- 
lus of hope is almost extinct, and there comes over 
him the dreary impression of being abandoned by his 
Maker. He feels something like what Christ felt 
when He cried: ^^ My God, my God, why hast Thou 
forsaken me.'' He asks with dismal interrogatives, in 
the language of the Psalmist : ^^ Will the Lord cast 
off forever ? And will He be favorable no more ? 
Doth His promise fail forevermore ? Hath God for- 
gotten to be gracious ? Hath He in anger shut up 
His tender mercies ?" But this is his infirmijty, oc- 
casioned in some instances by physical causes, sweep- 
ing rudely the chords of feeling, shutting up the win- 
dows of the soul and keeping from the imprisoned ten- 
ant the gladsome beams of day. Yet the changes of 
which we complain are in the subjects of faith, not 
in the Author. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, 
to-day and forever. 

There are also sufferings that arise from sickness 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 47 

and decay. These we must all encounter in some 
form or other, sooner or later. If hitherto the wilt- 
ing hand of disease has happily not touched us, we 
should regard it as a ground for thankfulness, and not 
presume that it will continue so long. We may have 
consolation in the season of our visitation, but the 
visitation we must ordinarily receive, and may not 
hope to escape it. 

There are also sufferings attendant on bereave- 
ment — on the removal by death of beloved friends 
and relatives. The circumstances may be such as to 
administer to the heart's deepest anguish. They may 
die among strangers, and sleep in a foreign grave or 
on the coral bed ; or they may be torn suddenly from 
our sides at a time when their hearts were bounding 
and their imagination was active in picturing scenes 
of enjoyment for many years to come. The memory 
recurs with mournful tenacity to objects and thoughts 
that are adapted to harrow up the already torn and 
throbbing sensibilities of the soul. The room the 
loved one occupied, the vacant seat and all the little 
arrangements as he left them, the books as he marked 
and laid them away, the garments where he hung 
them, the trees which his hands planted, and the 
grounds which his feet trod — all are made to contrib- 



48 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ute to its pangs of grief, till the heart in its paroxysms 
heaves and swells almost to bursting. Such are the 
sufferings of the bereaved^ before religion has had time 
to soothe by its healing appliances. The present is a 
world of change, withered hearts and blighted hopes. 
There are pains of body and sorrows of mind, afflic- 
tions in life and agonies in death. And of these the 
Christian drinks as often and as deeply as others. 
Still he is not left unaided and alone. There is an 
angel from heaven to strengthen him. There is the 
voice of the great I Am^ ^^Fear not, I am with 
thee.'' There is the finger of truth pointing upwards 
to the Eesurrection and the Life. There is the fore- 
taste of glory sent down to take possession of his 
soul. Hence, 

The Glory to he revealed. It does not clearly ap- 
pear to us now what a glorious apocalypse this reve- 
lation will be. At present it is mostly an object of 
faith, not of experience. Our natures as at present 
constituted could not bear the open manifestation 
that hereafter awaits us. Mortal eye cannot behold, 
nor ear hear, nor heart conceive the precious things 
which God has prepared for them that love Him. 
Human language also fails in its powers of communi- 
cation. The swelling hugeness of the ideas is sim- 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 49 

ply intimated by figures which fall infinitely short of 
the glorious reality. The few scattered beams that 
now fall into the darkened chambers of our minds 
serve only to transport us to ecstasy^ and make us 
long more fervently for the veil to be lifted^ and the 
dark curtain to be drawn aside^ when we shall won- 
der that we did not oftener wish to be there ; and 
wonder more that we complained of present suffer- 
ingS; when such boundless areas of grandeur and fe- 
licity were so soon to be our happy walk. 

The revelation of the glory to come will shed a 
lustre on the works of creation that is now but dim- 
ly reflected. The mirror, as it is, shows us much of 
God's goodness, and also much of His displeasure. 

The lark, rising on untiring wing, and singing so 
musically in the sunshine, would lead us to reflect 
on the goodness of that Almighty Being that made 
the bird so merry. But wait a few moments and a 
h^wk comes down upon it with the speed of light- 
ning, tears it in pieces, and feeds upon its warm blood. 
What inference shall we now draw from this violent 
assault upon the symbol of joy ? Does it not beto- 
ken a very different conclusion ? At least it preaches 
to us the lesson that creation at the best gives but 
conflicting views of the Divine Being, and that, apart 



50 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

from the truths of the Bible^ it would be ill adapted 
to guide us to immortality and bliss. When the fu- 
ture glory shall be revealed^ the cloud that now 
obscures it shall be dissipated ; the glass through 
which we see darkly shall be broken ; all sights shall 
be beauty ; all sounds shall be harmony, and we 
shall know as we are known. 

The flood of illumination which will thus be shed 
on created objects will tend equally to solve the in- 
explicable mysteries of Providence to our satisfaction 
and praise. We shall see that what we call chances, 
changes, accidents and vicissitudes, were all under 
the touch and responded to the call of Him, who does 
as He pleases in the armies of heaven, and amongst 
the inhabitants of earth. Yes, and the love and mercy 
of redemption, as harmonized in the great fact of the 
incarnation and sacrifice of Jesus, will no longer lie 
in the cold and misty light of the world's unbelief ; 
but in the clear, warm and luminous transparency of 
that unclouded glory that needs no sun to enlighten 
it, nor moon to shine there. Our vile bodies, too, shall 
be changed and fashioned like unto the glorious body 
of Christ, according to the mighty working whereby 
He is able to subdue all things unto Himself. The 
glorified members must resemble the glorified Head ; 



PKESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 51 

and the Head will present the whole body complete 
to His Father^ a glorious body^ not having spot or 
wrinkle or any such thing. Yonder sun is but a type 
of our coming glory, for the righteous shall shine as 
the sun in the kingdom of their Father. 

Having thus looked at present sufferings and fu- 
ture glory^ we proceed to glance at the connection 
that subsists hetween the two. The Apostle says that 
the one is not worthy to be compared with the other. 
He felt confident that no comparison need be insti- 
tuted. He had weighed and pondered and calcula- 
ted the matter very carefully, and delivered this as 
his fixed and settled judgment. And can any one in 
heaven or on earth hesitate in coming to the same 
conclusion ? Suppose we put the question to one of 
the disembodied spirits before the throne, who have 
come out of great tribulation, and have washed their 
robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 
Let him be one who has encountered every form and 
variety of earthly trial — the direst malignity of per- 
secution, the most desolating stroke of bereavement, 
the tortures of a racked and groaning .body, and the 
still keener anguish of a wounded spirit. That spirit, 
thus tossed and troubled, is now resting in the em- 
brace of infinite and protecting love. It has felt its 



52 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

last pang and breathed its last sigh. It is now a 
purified intelligence, delivered from the fears and 
griefs of time to the growing blessedness of eternity. 
Ask that spirit to give its opinion of the two states 
which it has tried ; and as it looks back upon this 
dim spot which men call earth — this little insignifi- 
cant speck of trouble that so much oppresses us — and 
then looks forward to the immeasurable felicity of 
its own secured immortality, what may we imagine 
would be its language ? Would it not be the iden- 
tical sentiment expressed by St. Paul ? Would not 
the whole company of the redeemed peal forth their 
intense agreement, till all the pillars of heaven should 
tremble with the utterance, '^ Not worthy to he com" 
spared!' 

Though there is no comparison, there is a connec- 
tion ; for all things work together for good to them 
that love God. Our light afflictions, which are but 
for a moment, are working out for us a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory.. Thej'- work 
into the soul an element of strength, and assurance^, 
and conscious supremacy over the assailments of 
evil, producing a character that stands firmer for the 
blasts it has sustained, and purer for the fires it has 
felt, and more shining and refined in consequence of 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 53 

the hard attritions it has had to endure. Yet if we 
•were to affirm that this salutary influence is the in- 
variable and uniform effect upon sufferers generally, 
we should contradict both the express testimony of 
Scripture and the observation of our senses. We 
have proofs too manifest, that many a man loses his 
health, his property and all that he possesses in the 
world, without obtaining the slightest portion in 
that better part, which cannot be taken from him. 
We believe that many a man leaves the bed of sick- 
ness with a heart more hardened, and a life more to- 
tally at variance with the will of God than he first 
entered it ; and we have seen many a mother commit 
her child to the grave, without buiying her own hos- 
tility and indifference to the things of Qod. There 
are probably some who read this book, who have 
suffered frequently and deeply at the hand of God, 
and yet are little conscious of having derived any 
real spiritual benefit. Some of the events of your 
past life weigh so heavily upon your spirits, that you 
can never eradicate them from your memory, nor 
dwell upon them without the most painful and dis- 
tressing feelings ; and yet you have no scriptural 
reason for supposing that they have worked for you 
one particle of good. The cause of this failure must 



54 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

be attributed entirely to yourselves. The pen of 
inspiration assures us that our light afflictions work 
for our good^ while we look not at the things which 
are seen^ but at the things which are not seen. This 
is the key to the mystery. It is the reason plainly 
stated why so many sorrows and afflictions work no 
spiritual improvement. You have contented your- 
selves with looking at the things which are seen. You 
have dwelt chiefly upon the trouble that has over- 
whelmed and darkened your prospects. You have 
viewed the calamity in all its distressing bearings, 
the causes that led to it, how it might have been 
prevented had a different line of conduct been adopt- 
ed. You have kept your eye fixed upon the cir- 
cumstances of the things seen, instead of looking up- 
ward to that Divine Being who was able to turn it 
to a good account, and have consequently lost the 
blessing which you might otherwise have reaped. 
The course you have pursued is one which never 
has, and never will bring solid peace, or comfort, or 
profit to the troubled mind. Cease from man whose 
breath is in his nostrils, and trust in the Lokd Je- 
hovah, in Whom is everlasting strength. Cease to 
ponder upon your sorrow^s as the sole object of your 
regard, and look at the eternal God, Who is all in 



PRESENT SUFFERINGS AND FUTURE GLORY. 55 

all. Cease to treat the objects that engross you with 
the open eye of sense and the closed eye of faith, and 
look henceforth at eternal realities, and your peace 
shall flow as a river, and your righteousness as the 
waves of the sea. Lift up the weeping eye and the 
sorrowing head to the sympathizing Saviour in 
heaven ; and the thorn in the flesh shall be as a dia- 
dem in your crown of glory. Pray for the light and 
power and sanctifying influence of the blessed Spirit, 
the Comforter, and the darkest night shall usher in 
a bright and glorious day. 

The thought will sometimes strike the mind that 
God is unkind in putting upon us so heavy an afflic- 
tion ; but the rising murmur is quelled the moment 
we think of His fatherly goodness, and the overflow- 
ing solicitude which He manifests to make us inherit- 
ors of the future glory. Since He spared not His 
own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, can we 
reasonably expect that He will spare us the requisite 
discipline to fit and prepare us for a state of such ex- 
alted blessedness. In that better life, the joy with 
which our present sufferings are contrasted is perma- 
nent, unsuspended and perpetual. The river flows 
forever, the tree grows forever, the glory shines forever ; 
and therefore the sufferings that are occasional are 



56 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

not worthy to be compared with the glory that has 
no end. 

There are in the severest sufferings of this life cer- 
tain compensatory elements attending them. God 
stays His rough wind in the day of His east wind. 
He makes sickness of body conduce to satification of 
heart — the pain of the outer man save the peace of 
the inner man ; and the loss of children and relatives 
endear to us the mansions whither they have gone 
before us. Thus our sufferings when greatest have 
interwoven with their texture^ and intermingled with 
their current^ and bubbling up from their depth, a 
supply of comforting and compensatory joys. On 
the other hand, in the life to come the happiness of 
the glorified will have nothing to interfere witk it. 
It will be undiluted, unmingled, unclouded ecstacy. 
Hence the sufferings of this present time, that are ac- 
companied with neutralizing elements, are not worthy 
to be compared with the glory that has no intrusive 
sorrow, and is as perfect as it is lasting. 

Beyond a certain pitch, the sufferings of this life 
end in death or insensibility ; but in the destiny of 
the future our capacities will be infinitely enlarged, 
our susceptibilities of bliss made infinitely sensitive, 
and our joys, accordingly experienced, rise to the 



PRESENT SUFFERINGB AND FUTURE GLORY. 57 

measure of the powers of comprehension with which 
we shall be endowed. Therefore^ the sufferings which 
do not fill our present capacity of suffering are not 
to be compared with the glory which shall fill our 
enlarged capacities of pleasure in the world to come. 
Lastly^ our present sufferings are but temporary, 
while the glory to be revealed is eternal. We see^ 
therr, what firm ground there is for the grace of pa- 
tience ; how important that we possess it, so as to 
be able to bear, not only the momentary afflictions 
that we cannot shun, but those wearying burdens 
which can only be laid down with the burden of 
mortality. The stormy voyage of life will soon be 
over. The flinty road will soon be traversed. The 
happy home will soon encompass us, 

" Art is long, and time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 
Still like muffled drums are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave. 
Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate j 
Still achieving, still pursuing. 

Learn to labor, and to wait/' 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE TEMPORAL AXD ETERiTAL. 



"The things that are seen are temporal^ but the 
things which are not seen are eternal/' If these 
words had been the mere dogmas of a moral specula- 
tor — the statements of Plato or Cicero^ or any Greek 
or Roman sage^ they would have merited our most 
serious attention. But^ as the words of St. Paul — 
the words of St. Paul^ an Apostle of Jesus Christ, 
commissioned to preach the everlasting Grospel to the 
Gentiles — they come to us as the inspired declaration 
of the Almighty, demanding our most solemn re- 
flections. 

The propositions aflirmea are two-fold ; differing 
as widely from each other as the heavens and the 
earth are asunder; the one having special reference to 
the visible, and the other to the invisible. 

The first clause predicates of things seen that they 
are temporal. Now the things seen are those close 
around and about us. They are the first things that 
we learn, love and remember. They greet us as the 



THE TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL. 59 

most familiar objects of our existence^ and push them- 
selves out into such peculiar prominence, as if there 
were nothing else relatively important, great or desir- 
able. We live among the things we see and touch. 
They are our world of action, and limit the range 
of our life. We therefore apply the phrase, " things 
seen'^ to all the concerns of this mortal state. We 
cast our eyes abroad over the face of the earth, and 
we are met everywhere by a busy populace sedulously 
applying their energies to the objects of their several 
callings, merely as the inhabitants of this present 
world ; and we include them all in the class of things 
seen. We look upon cities and villas, fields and 
fruits, wealth and splendor, mountains and streams, 
and we put them all in the same category of things 
seen. We take a view of the plans of civil polity, 
and inquire into the influence which they exert upon 
the people at large, and a multitude of other matters 
all identified with the social and individual arrange- 
ments of life, and we say of them all, that they be- 
long to the list of things seen and temporal. 

The seen is the exponent of the unseen ; the visi- 
ble, the type and symbol of the invisible which it 
conceals. The first, and almost the only thing which 
arrests our attention when a building is in process of 



60 TWILIGHT AND DAWXIXG. 

erection^ is the scaffolding which surrounds it. The 
scaffolding shapes itself to the general conformation, 
and gives us some idea of the size and figure of the 
house. The visible is thus the representative of the 
concealed structure which is filling itself out^ and ris- 
ing to its true and just proportions. The same rela- 
tion of the seen to the unseen exists all the world 
over. The country mansion, with its woodlands and 
streams — what is it but the scaffolding within which 
the great home-feeling is inculcated, and built up and 
enjoyed ? But it is for the Jiouse, and not for the 
scaffolding, that the builder works. It is for the soul 
within the body we are principally to live. What is 
seen is only temporal and tributary : what is unseen 
is ultimate and eternal. The type is always chang- 
ing ; the typified remains. The outward and the 
palpable fall to pieces ; the inner and the real con- 
tinue forever. Whether ]3hysically evil or physically 
good, it is but for a season. 

Where, now, are the cities that once embellished 
the dominions of kings and princes ? Where is Bab- 
ylon, the lady of kingdoms ? Where are her palaces 
and her temples ? They have shared the fate of 
prophecy, and a voice echoes from the place of their 
solitude, ^* They have passed away.'' Where is Tyre, 



THE TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL. 61 

with her trade and traffic in scarlet^ and purple, and 
blue, and fine linen of Egypt ? The hand of desola- 
tion has passed over her depots of merchandize, and, 
with the generations that owned them, her treasures 
^nd her greatness have perished from the earth. The 
spot where she stood is still recognized ; but it is only 
as a ruin, where, instead of a restless and busy pop- 
ulation, a few wretched sons of the ocean drag out a 
miserable existence of poverty and distress. Where 
are the cities of Greece, the famous and much honor- 
ed land of enterprise and exertion ? The glory of 
Athens has departed, and the sound of contention and 
debate is no longer heard in her councils. Even 
Rome, once the mistress of the world, steps forward 
and presents her evidence of the changeful and tem- 
porary character of the proudest and most envied of 
all human things. Her martial and invincible le- 
gions, who walked victorious over the rights and priv- 
ileges, the integrity and independence of conquered 
nations, have ceased to exist — ^but in the tale of her 
decline and decay. 

Well might we exclaim : 

" Where, now. the Roman ? Greek ? 
Thy stalk an empty name. Yet few 
Regard them in this useful light, 
Though half our learning is their epitaph." 



62 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Those very places that were consecrated by the 
presence of the Prophets and Apostles have met with 
a similar fate. The cities of Palestine, almost with- 
out exception, whose people, once so dear to Heaven, 
drank so deeply and sweetly of the Great Jeho- 
vah's kindness and love, have either changed their 
character, or melted away 

If there be one thing more than another, of which 
men are disposed to feel confident, it is the continu- 
ance of their national commerce. This feeling is 
common to all communities. Yet the history of the 
past will surely lead us to infer, that such an assur- 
ance is not well founded. When we look at Greece, 
Rome, Holland, Gaul and Spain, we see that it has 
changed its currents in almost every age ; and no 
country, enriched by its visits to-day, can be sure of 
its continuance to-morrow. Of wealth and com- 
merce it may justly be affirmed, ^^ They take to them- 
selves wings and flee away as an eagle towards hea- 
ven." 

The revolutions thus constantly occurring are much 
of themselves, and they shake to the centre the foun- 
dations of society. The heart, in its affections and 
regards, and the social arrangements of life, are all 
modified by their influence. Persons once on terms 



THE TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL. 63 

of intimacy and brotherly love, have been brought 
into deadly and implacable collision, and thus fre- 
quently, for trivial reasons, whether involving the 
possession of an acre, or the dominion of a province. 
Great and manifold are the changes that we witness 
in things altered or destroyed, and yet they give but 
an indistinct, though analogous view of what remains 
to be accomplished to demonstrate fully the truth of 
the Apostle's predicate that the things which are 
seen are temporal. 

They are temporal for the obvious reason that they 
had a beginning, and will have an end. Suppose we 
pursue a calculation upward through the stream of 
ages that are past, we shall arrive at a period when 
the things seen did not exist ; and if we allow our 
imaginations to run forward through the years that 
are to come, we shall come to a time when they will 
not be. The flight of thought becomes very myste- 
rious when it goes back to the eternity that is be- 
yond us. It very soon reaches the commencement of 
all visible things, and, continuing its excursions 
through the regions of space, it finds the line of its 
march always lengthening beyond, till lost in the im- 
mensity of avast and unpeopled solitude. God only 
was there, inhabiting His own eternity, and the Son 



64 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

of GoD^ in glory uncreated. The curtain whicli can- 
not be lifted hides all besides^ and the mind is hum- 
bled under its own infirmity. 

It is not so much that there was once a time when 
things seen did not exist, as that there is a time com- 
ing when they will exist no more. They are tempo- 
ral, because their duration will cease. Those objects 
which we have been accustomed to look upon as im- 
perishable will not be able to survive the ruin of 
the last fire. There comes a day when the world and 
all that is therein shall be burnt up ; when the sun 
sha.ll not give his light, and the stars shall cease to 
twinkle, and the heavens shall pass away as a scroll, 
and one and all shall flee from the face of Him who 
sitteth on the throne, and there shall be found no 
place for them. Surely if this world, with its mighty 
apparatus of continents and islands, that look now 
so healthful and firm, after the wear and tear of so 
many centuries, is rapidly posting to its end, what 
shall hinder us from believing that the j)rinciple of 
destruction is at work in other j)rovinces of the visi- 
ble creation ; and that, though of old, God laid the 
foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the 
work of His hands, yet they shall perish ; yea, all 
of them shall wax old like a garment, and as a ves- 



THE TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL. 65 

ture shallHe fold them up, and they shall be changed. 
These shall perish, but He remains, and His years 
shall know no end. What lofty conceptions ought 
this to convey to us of the majesty of God! Subject 
to no mutation, He presides in high authority over 
His works. With profound veneration we should ever 
approach His throne and worsMp at His footstool. 

There is yet another sense in which the objects 
that are seen are temporal, and are much more likely 
to affect us. It is not so much their removal from 
ns^ but our removal from them. The disappearance 
of the e^irth on which we tread, and those heavens 
above us which we are prone to look upon through 
the dimness of a far- placed futurity, is an event which 
may regale the imagination and elevate the mind by 
its sublimity ; but it does not come home to our 
hearts with the urgency of a personal interest. It 
does not carry along with it the excitement which 
lies in the nearness of an immediate concern. The 
heart is speedily relieved by the thought that the 
earth and the heavens may possibly outlive several 
generations, and even centuries of centuries. But 
they will certainly very soon be nothing to us. Yet 
a little while, and we shall resign the breath of our 
nostrils, and bid a final adieu to every thing around 



66 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

US. Be the splendor and variety of this goodly 
i?cene ever so enduring, it will be fugitive to us. 
The next generation will leave the present in death 
and forgetfulness. The dark and silent grave, where 
the sun never enters, and the accents of the hu- 
man voice are never heard, will close upon every 
one of us. It has already secreted many objects of 
devoted affection that seemed more likely to weather 
the storms of life than some of us who survive. We 
have lived long enough to see whole families brok- 
en up — acquaintances daily diminished — houses and 
neighborhoods shifting their inhabitants, and a suc- 
cession of new faces in the Church. There is a po- 
etic melancholy inspired by the picture of these 
changes, of which we would not be altogether un- 
mindful. There is a sadness which the heart that 
has felt it only knows, when we knock at the door of 
a friend, and find that he, who once welcomed us, 
and made us happy, is no longer on earth. Only a 
few years have elapsed ; but the progress of events 
has been so gradual, that it has quite deceived us. 
To-day is so much like yesterday, that we are scarce- 
ly sensible of its departure. The days that are past 
appear like the twinkling of a vision ; and the days 
that are to come will perform their course with equal 



THE TEMPOBAL AND ETERNAL. 67 

rapidity. We talk of our fathers and grandfathers^ 
who figured their day on the theatre of the world ; 
and posterity will talk of us as of the men that are 
gone, whose memory has well-nigh faded from the 
country. There are few among us but have observed, 
in attending burials, the bones of persons of other 
times thrown up ; and we can hardly avoid the re- 
flection that our own dust will by and by mingle 
with the same mould, and be dispersed in scattered 
fragments among the earth of a new made grave. 
When we wander among tombstones of ancient date, 
we can scarcely follow the mutilated letters that com- 
pose the epitaph of the sleepers below. So the stone 
that may designate our own resting-place will crum- 
ble by the power of the seasons ; the letters will be 
eaten away, and the eulogy that was intended to per- 
petuate our remembrance will elude the gaze of fu- 
ture inquirers. Such admonitory lessons we should 
be concerned to turn to a practical and beneficial 
account. We should think, when we hear the toll 
of the Church-bell, how soon it may perform for us 
the same office. We should think of the number of 
agencies that are at work to hurry us away; and 
what a trivial cause will often snap asunder the vital 
thread and lay us low. The cold of a few weeks 



68 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

may settle into some lingering and irrecoverable dis- 
ease. The fever of a few days may run sufficiently 
high to efface our features from the land of the liv- 
ing. The tornado's blast, or the lightning's stroke^ 
may arrest the current of life in the twinkling of an 
eye. Dangers stand ready to assail us, from which no 
age is exempted ; and everywhere and in everything 
we meet with monitors, whose aim is to break the 
spell that binds us, by reminding us, again and 
again, that the things which are seen are temporal. 
If we regard them as thus transitory, we shall not be 
in danger of cleaving to them inordinately ; and they 
will have the effect of reclaiming our wandering 
affections, and sending us back to our callings more 
pure and heavenly. 

The province of faith is to deal with the unseen ; 
to endure as seeing Him wdio is invisible ; to look 
through outward forms and types and symbols to the 
inner and eternal verities of which they are but the 
natural expressions and representatives. Who is the 
ever blessed Jehovah but the unseen Eternal, whom 
no man hath seen at any time, nor can see ? Of 
Christ, it is said that He is the image of the invisi- 
ble God, whom, having not seen we love, and though 
now w^e see Him not, yet believing we rejoice with 



THE TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL. 69 

joy unspeakable and full of glory. The spirit of our 
worship^ sabbaths, services, sacraments, psalms, hymns 
and spiritual songs — what is it but the invisible, 
shaped, moulded and acted upon by the visible, the 
spiritual by the natural, the eternal by the temporal, 
the hope of glory animated by the means of grace ? 
The two are intimately connected ; they touch each 
other, and they touch the hearts of thousands, who in 
the use of the forms of godliness enjoy the power, 
and thus rise from matter to spirit, and from earth to 
heaven. 

The truth as it is in Jesus is eternal. It is the 
incorruptible seed, which liv^eth and abideth forever. 
The power which it exercises over the mind resides 
not in the letter of its record, but in the demonstra- 
tion of the spirit. Its holy impressions are stereo- 
typed on the soul, and its sacred sentences are S[)irit 
and life. 

The soul of man is eternal. It has a commence- 
ment, but it will have no close. Its immateriality is 
a strong conclusive proof of its immortality. If it 
consisted of parts, it would be subject to decay ; but 
that which has no parts is not perishable. The soul 
is as distinct from the body as the inhabitant differs 
from the house in which he resides. When death 



70 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

comes, the earthly house of our tabernacle falls to 
pieces; but the soul is not annihilated, only titans- 
fered to another sphere. The destruction of the 
body is only the striking of the tent, that the grand 
inhabitant within may arise and pursue his journey 
to a greater world. 

Character is eternal, gathering the materials to 
complete its figure and developement from the habits 
and customs of this outer life. The influences that 
bear upon it, and within the range of which it is ma- 
tured and perfected, are like the tide's ripple upon 
the sea-coast. They are shore points^ where the in- 
visible breaks into expression upon the visible that 
girdles it. The shore may melt away, and the rip- 
ple cease ; but who shall subdue into stillness the 
great throbbing heart of the ocean ? The heart of 
man shall cease to beat, and all the influences that 
moved him shall be cut off ; but the diaracter which 
they formed shall continue ever. He that is unjust 
shall be unjust still ; he that is filthy shall be filthy 
still ; he that is righteous shall be righteous still, 
and be that is holy shall be holy still. 

The crown of glory is eternal. Earthly crowns are 
corrupting, and destined to perish with the lumber of 
oblivion. The crown of righteousness held out by 



THE. TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL. 71 

the Saviour is a crown of life^ which He will here- 
after give unto all who long for His appearing. It is 
invisible to mortal eyes, but faith sees it, among 
harps and thrones and palms, and strains every nerve 
to press with vigor on. 

" A heavenly race demands her zeal, 
And an immortal crowD." 

Exemption from sorrow and death is eternal. There 
shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, for 
the former things have passed away. 

The bliss of life is eternal. "The gift of God is 
eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.'' Who- 
soever believeth on Him shall never perish, but have 
everlasting life. 

The inheritance of heaven is eternal. It is an in- 
heritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth 
not away. 

The anguish of the lost is eternal. The smoke of 
their torment ascendeth up forever and forever. God 
has forgotten to be gracious, and His mercy is clean 
gone forever. The worm dieth not, and the fire is 
not quenched. If temporary sufferings could have 
redeemed mankind, an infinite atonement would not 
have been made. If torture could ultimately save 
the souls of sinners, then Christ would not have 



72 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

died. It is said of Judas that it had been good for 
him if he had never been born ; but if the fires of 
perdition have a purifying, sanctifying and saving 
efficacy, leading the punished to love the punisher, 
then there must be some period in the cycles of 
eternity, when he will cease to suffer the penalty of 
his crime. But between the lost and the saved 
there is a great gulf fixed. No wings can fly across 
it. No foot 'can wade it. No mercy can span it; 
and no Saviour is promised to bridge it. 

We have thus tried to explain the meaning of the 
temporal and the eternal. Aim now, we beseech 
you, to exemplify the Apostle's advice in looking not 
at the things which are seen, but at the things which 
are not seen. Live less in visibilities and observances, 
and more in the deep spiritualities of the faith. Take 
every providence that God sends you as a warning to 
trust not in the transient, but in the permanent. 
Depend not on the accidentals of w^orship, but look 
through them to the better things which lie beyond. 
Glory only in the form as it brings you in connec- 
tion with the substance. Commit yourselves to the 
invisible and eternal, and you will find yourselves 
standing upon a rock, against which the gates of hell 
shall not prevail. 



CHAPTEE V. 
THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 



" Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and 
full of trouble ; he cometh forth like a flower, and is 
cut down : he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth 
not." Such is the declaration of Job. This patri- 
arch was the greatest man of the East, perfect and 
upright ; one that feared God, and eschewed evil. 
Yet his moral and spiritual worth would have been 
but little known, had he not suffered from the hand 
of God and man the most peculiar and accumulated 
afflictions. Miseries of every kind assailed him in the 
fiercest form. They fell upon his substance, upon 
his comforts, upon his servants, upon his children 
and upon his person. He was covered with sore boils 
from head to foot. He was made to possess months 
of vanity, , and wearisome nights were appointed him. 
His wife uged him to curse God and die ; and his 
friends, mistaking his integrity, reproached him with 
hypocricy and wickedness. All these calamities came 
upon him suddenly, like sea-waves — deep calling un- 



74 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

to the deep, at the noise of God's waterspouts, the 
waves and the billows going over him. In all this 
Job sinned not, nor charged GrOD foolishly. " The 
Lord gave,'" said he, ^^ and the Lord hath taken 
away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.'' " Shall 
we receive good at the hand of the Lord, and shall 
we not receive evil ? Though He slay me yet will I 
trust in Him.'' The vicissitudes of fortune had 
taught him to look for nothing permanent below the 
sun, but to cleave with more steadfast adherence to 
the Sovereign Disposer of events, whom he knew to 
be his Advocate and Defender. Therefore, while he 
viewed life as afflictive in its progress, he rejoiced 
in the circumscribed limit of its duration, and said : 
" When a few more years are come, then shall I go 
the way, whence I shall not return." " Man that is 
born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble ; 
he Cometh forth like a flower and is cut down ; he 
fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not." Every 
word is emphatic, portraying some expressive picture 
in the journey of life. It shows us life at one view — 
life in its frailty, in its sorroivs, in its shortness, in 
its rapidity, and in its uncertainty. 

We propose to glance at each of these particulars 
as we pass along. 



THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 75 

Life in its frailty, Man cometh forth like a flow- 
er, and is cut down. We are acquainted with no 
species of imagery more sweetly touching. We gaze 
upon the flower^ and admire its beauty ; but soon, 
and sometimes suddenly, it sinks into its parent 
earthy and is no more seen. It requires but a small 
force to level it with the ground. It is exposed to a 
thousand disasters that crush it in its prime. Insects 
gnaw it off ; the beasts of the field devour it ; the 
elements of nature attack and destroy it. Let one 
sharp blast sweep over the field, and it withers in an 
hour. '^ As for man, his days are as grass ; as a flow- 
er of the field, so he flourisheth, for the wind passeth 
over it, and it is gone, and the place thereof shall 
know it no more.'' The messenger that takes the 
pious to their rest is the gatherer of flowers for Par- 
adise. 

*' Who gazes at the flower with tearful eyes 1 
Who kisses their drooping leaves ? 
'Tis for the Lord of Paradise ; 
He binds them in His sheaves. 

"Oh I not in cruelty, not in wrath, 
The reaper came that day ; 
T'was an angel visited the earth, 
And took the flowers away." 

Children are like flowers in the bud, unfolding their 



76 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

beauty as days and years increase. Their innocent 
actions, their broken accents, and their acquisition of 
new ideas fascinate and involuntarily allure us. . We 
see in one child a form which the maturity of age 
will render pleasing ; in another, clearness of thought 
and sobriety of judgment that seem in advance of its 
years ; in a third, a combination of qualities that ir- 
resistibly win our affections. The opening bud dis- 
closes much that is beautiful and attractive — the 
father s hope and the mother's joy ; the life of the do- 
mestic circle — but an unfriendly blast attacks it^ and 

" The momentary glories waste ; 

The short-lived beauties die away." 

The most trivial circumstance may be sufficient to 
stop the current of life, and to snap asunder the vital 
bond. There is scarcely a home to which we can 
point, that has not been darkened by some sad be- 
reavement. There are few parents but are familiar 
with facts in their domestic experience that attest 
the precariousness of the dearest life. What cemete- 
ry has not graves a few inches, as well as a few feet 
long ? How many evidences are continually afforded 
us that babes, the mere sparklings of life, which this 
cold world would utterly extinguish, are caught up by 



THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 77 

that beneficent Parent who sent them^ and transferred 
to a more etherial atmosphere^ in which they glow with 
seraphic fire^ and shine with inextinguishable lustre 
forever and ever ? It seems as if Grod, in taking the 
infant from its mother's bosom^ intended to teach her 
something more than the lesson of the frailty of life, 
by giving her an interest in a brighter and better 
world to which her babe has preceded her. These 
flowers, no sooner blown than blasted, are now bloom- 
ing in beauty in their native regions. They have left 
behind them, fragrant with perfume, the dark vallt-y 
of the shadow of death, and are henceforth so many 
additional attractions to set our affections on things 
above — not on things on the earth. 

The flowers that burst forth in spring, bright and 
beautiful, teach a lesson that the blindest may read. 
They tell us that the fairest and loveliest things soon 
fade, that they are simply the visions of an hour, and 
that we must look beyond them to flowers that never 
wither, and to a spring and summer that know no 
autumn. 

Life in its sorroics—full of trouble. The cup of 
misfortune and calamity is presented on every hand, 
and proclaims nothing certain, in this uncertain 
world. To calculate on unruffled peace, or unin- 



78 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

terrupted prosperity, in such a changeable state of 
existence^ would be to anticipate a flow of events, not 
justified by general experience. ^' Man is born unto 
trouble as the sparks fly upward/' The Psalmist 
felt the trouble of bereavement, when he said, ^^ Lover 
and friend hast thou put far from me, and my ac- 
quaintance into darkness/' Eachel was troubled at 
the loss of her children, and ^^ refused to be comfort- 
ed because they were not/' Martha, the sister of 
Mary, was troubled at the death of Lazarus, and ex- 
claimed, ^^ Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my broth- 
er had not died/' Grood old Jacob bemoaned him- 
self saying : ^^ Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and 
ye will take away Benjamin also : all these things 
are against me/' 

The troubles of life are as varied as the sources 
from which they spring. Some arise from secular 
affliction — some from bodily infirmity — some from 
moral imperfection — some from the wickedness of 
others ; and some from a succession of disappoint- 
ments, trying circumstances and painful anxieties 
that corrode and afflict us. . 

There is hardly an interval in which the mind is 
free from trouble of some sort, either real or imagin- 
ary. It follows us from infancy to old age — from 



THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 79 

the cradle to the grave. It enters the palace as well 
as the cottage^ and befalls the rich^ as well as the 
poor. 

We are often tempted to discontent by comparison, 
while perhaps the very parties whom we are envying 
are cherishing the same feelings with respect to our- 
selves. But every heart knows its own bitterness, re- 
strained emotion, pent up feelings, and secret tears 
that are wont to flow. 

In minds of a certain temperament there is a prone- 
ness to meet trouble, which otherwise would never be 
realized, either in whole, or in part. Anticipated 
calamities are much heavier than real ones. There is 
usually no support vouchsafed to sustain us under 
them. There is no promise of assistance from God, 
and no sympathy from Christian* friends. 

We are all more or less guilty of looking at trials 
too much in the light of this world only. When we 
look at the stars at midnight, we see a splendid Apoc- 
alypse in which myriads of bright sentinels seem to 
watch and wait about the throne of Deity as obedient 
servants ; but as we gaze on that same sky by day, 
the in tenser splendor of the sun renders all the 
inferior luminaries invisible. So the cares and vexa- 
tions of the world, when viewed in themselves, stand 



80 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

out in bold relief, apparently insurmountable, and at 
times quite alarming ; but, let a few stray beams 
from the unclouded light of the Sun of Eighteous- 
ness fall on them, and our light affictions, which are 
but for a moment, will be seen to be working out for 
us a far more exceeding, and eternal weight of glory. 

The sorrows of life are useful in themselves. They 
prevent an immoderate attachment to earth. They 
withdraw our affections from it, and reconcile us to 
leave it. They endear to us the Scriptures, the 
throne of G-race, the sympathy of Jesus, and the 
glory to be revealed. The brevity of their duration 
corrects their bitterness. The conflict may be sharp, 
but the warfare will soon be accomplished. The 
road may be rough, and the weather stormy, but our 
Father's house — our home is at hand. 

Life in its shortness—few days. " Few and evil 
have the days of the years of my life been,"" said 
Jacob to Pharaoh, '^ and I have not attained unto 
the days of the years of the life of my fathers, in the 
days of their pilgrimage.'^ Some whose history is 
recorded lived to a very extended age. Adana lived 
nine hundred and thirty years. Seth lived nine hun- 
dred and twelve years. And Methusaleh lived nine 
hundred and sixty-nine years. The Divine Being has 



THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 81 

since then abridged man's existence^ that he may- 
no t calculate on so long a period for enjoying the 
pleasures of sin, and becoming confirmed in thought- 
lessness of eternity. This was probably one reason 
for limiting our term to threescore years and ten. It 
would not be safe to trust us with a longer lease. 
Were there the slightest probability that we might 
live for two or three centuries, so far from making us 
better and wiser, it would be likely, in the majority 
of instances^ to incline us to live worse. It would 
have a tendency to settle us down in habits of world- 
liness, till at last, when death comes, it would find us 
less prepared to go than we should have been had 
that summons reached us at an earlier period. Now 
from the fact that our time is short, and that accidents, 
and sickness in a thousand forms, stand ready to cut 
us down in the midst of our days, it is certainly a 
part of wisdom to have our armor on in readiness for 
the change. Suppose it were announced to you by a 
special revelation from heaven, that your graves will be 
dug before the earth will have walked another circuit 
around the sun. Suppose we could assure you that 
none of you will outlive the present year. What ef- 
fect, may we suppose, would this startling intelligence 
have upon your minds in disposing to the necessary 



82 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

preparation ? Yet there are thousands among us, 
who^ because they cannot compute the moment, will 
presume to be indifferent. Things which they would 
not dare to do, if they knew they must die in a year, 
they do without compunction, because they know 
they may die to-morrow. The sad prevalence of this 
perversion of judgment and feeling, as everywhere 
manifest, renders peculiarly appropriate the invoca- 
tion of Moses, in the niDctieth Psalm, ^^ So teach us 
to number our days, that we may apply our hearts 
unto wisdom.'^ The desire is breathed forth to the 
Almighty, in the form of prayer, as though it were 
necessary that God should intefere to incline men to 
this species of arithmetic. But for the hardness of 
(OUT hearts, we should regard it as surprising that 
there is nat enough of mortality around us to make 
;US feel our frailty, without an actual supernatural 
impression. Can it be that there are not lessons suf- 
ficient on this subject, without fresh teaching from 
above ? Does not yonder grave-yard speak to all 
ages and all ranks ? Is there not eloquence in the 
tears of mourning families to persuade us that we 
are dying creatures ? Do we tread every day on the 
dust of our fathers, and meet every day with the fu- 
nerals of our brethren, iind shall we stiU continue to 



THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 83 

think all men mortal but ourselves ? In other mat- 
ters, the frequency of the occurrence makes us expect 
it. The husbandman does not pray to be made to 
believe that the seed which he casts into the ground 
dies before it germinates. This is the regular process 
•of vegetation ; and there is no room for doubting 
where there is so much experience. The mariner 
does not pray to be taught that the needle of his 
compass points toward the north : it has done so 
ever since it was discovered, and there is no need of 
seeking to be more deeply impressed about what he 
is already so sure. The benighted traveller does not 
pray that the sun may rise to-morrow to assist him 
on his journey. It has been the order of nature 
ever since the world was made ; and there is no ne- 
cessity for asking about what he knows so well. Still 
in none of these things is there greater assurance, 
than that which is afforded us of the brief span of 
our earthly duration. Nevertheless we must pray to 
be made to knoio it — pray to be made ^o feel it, 
and pray to be made to believe that every man dies. 

Life in its fleetness—fleeth as a shadow. Wheth- 
er the allusion is to the shadow of a cloud on the 
earth, or the shadow of a sun-dial, or the shadow of 
a bird flying, or the shadow of evening, which is lost 



84 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

when night comes on, is not certain. Either of the 
figures is appropriate, and fully represents our life, 
which is quickly passing, whether we are loitering or 
active, careless or serious, killing or improving time. 
The similitude is exceedingly impressive, and suggest- 
ive of most solemn reflections. The shadow of a 
church, when the sun declines, is first seen at its 
base, below the windows, then it steals up the walls, 
then rises to the roof, then to the tower, presently 
the top only is seen in the sunshine, and in a few 
minutes the whole building is wrapped in shade. So, 

" Darker and more wan, 

On every side the shadows fall ; 
(Jpward steals the life of man, 
As the sunshine on the wall. 

" From the wall unto the side, 
From the roof along the spire, 
All the souls, in Christ that died, 
Are but sun-beams lifted higher." 

There is nothing tangible in a shadow — nothing so 
unsubstantial^ — nothing more fleeting. We feel its 
analogies to human life the more striking as we pass 
the meridian. The rapidity with which our time 
flies is an acknowledgment which every one is in- 
clined to make. Every person we meet, in the in- 
tercourse of society, exclaims : How fast the time 



THE BKEVITY OF LIFE. 85 

passes away. How soon Christmas comes round. 
The golden visions of youth quickly fade and be- 
come dim. The broad space^ and the bright prospects 
are compressed into a narrow compass ; and the ho- 
rizon shuts down around us^ till its diameter seems 
only the length and the breadth of the grave. Poets 
may gild the experience of humanity with the charms 
of beauty, and shed a transient interest over the 
scene^ but the fact teaches us searching and solemn 
lessons. One of our classic Poets has tried to ex- 
plain the phenomenon that years seem shorter as we 
grow older. 

"The more we live, more brief appear 

Our life's succeeding staples ; 

A day to childhood seems a year, 

And years like passing ages. 

" When joys have lost their bloom and breath, 
And life itself is vapid ; 
Why, as we reach the falls of death, 
Feel we the tide more rapid ? 

"Heaven gives our years a fading strength 
Indemnifying fleetness, 
And gives to youth a seeming length, 
Proportioned to its sweetness." 

Whatever value may be attached to some of the 
sentiments contained in these beautiful verses, they 
certainly convey to us the great truth, which we all 



86 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

feel constrained to admit, that life in its longest lim- 
its is shorty and that the sands run faster, the nearer 
they are running out. 

The last clause of the language of Job seeks to 
impress us with the idea of 

Life in its uncertainty. It continueth not. The 
rapids of time carry off in succession the whole of 
our race. The clock that strikes, tells us not that 
we have so much time in possession, but that so 
much is irrecoverably gone. For this same reason, the 
Poet calls it the knell of a departed hour. Where is 
yesterday ? It is with the years beyond the flood : 
and we may as well attempt to bring back one of 
them, as to recall the last moment. 

The world is perpetually changing ; and all its 
gaudy scenes are alike mutable : they continue not. 
Its riches, honors, pleasures continue not. Its cit- 
ies, empires, nations continue not. A century 
sweeps the globe. Where, now, are the millions that 
have peopled our earth — the great and the mighty, 
the gay and the serious, the thoughtless and devout ? 
Where are those who were once engaged in scenes of 
social mirth, that chanted to the sound of the viol 
and the harp ; (the tabret and the pipe were in their 
feasts ;) who had the same fond attachments, and en- 



THE BREVITY OF LIFE. 87 

dearing sympathy with ourselves ? They have long 
since been borne off by the current — they continued 
not. 

We live among the ruins of past generations, and 
tread upon the graves of the departed. Beneath our 
feet is the scattered dust of many a dissolved taber- 
nacle, whose inhabitant has long since passed into 
eternity. What means this, tombstone in the city 
of the dead ? Whose memory is it intended to per- 
petuate ? That of an opulent merchant, who made 
his thousands, and added house to house, and field 
to field, and then could carry nothing away with him 
of all that he had accumulated. 

And this proud marble marks the resting place of 
one who attained eminence on the battle-field, and 
wore stars and ribbons, and then left them for his 
winding sheet. 

The stone next covers the remains of a man of 
science, whose companions were the planets, the mys- 
teries of nature his pastime, and who was hurried 
into a world of which he had gained no intelligence. 

Tread lightly upon this turf. Something like hom- 
age is due to the dust of what was once so lovely. 
The caressed idol of beloved parents lies here. She 
was a vision of the morning, formed to shed blessings 



88 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

on all around : but the spoiler came^ and she was 
brought into the dust of death. 

It is scarcely possible to take a walk^ and not tram- 
ple on the ashes of the dead. Where is the earth 
that has not been alive ? 

" Death inhabits all things but the thought of 
man.'^ The world is like one vast field of battle^ on 
which we are daily engaged with the enemy. To-day 
we have escaped, but we have seen others perish. 
To-morrow we must again enter the field, and renew 
the conflict. But who has told us that the lot, so 
fiital to others, will always prove favorable to us ? 
And since we must eventually fall, what folly can 
be greater than to attempt U build a permanent 
dwelling on the very spot destined to serve for our 
sepulchre ? 

There are some who feel that they are not what 
they once were. The roses that blossomed on their 
cheeks have faded. The sprightliness that beamed 
in their eyes is extinguished. The health that braced 
their frame has fled. The keepers of the house trem- 
ble. The strong men bow themselves. The daugh- 
ters of music are brought low. The chances and 
changes of this mortal life have brought them to 
the shores of that everlasting sea, upon which they 



THE BKEVITY OF LIFE 89 

must shortly embark. Pause, and bethink your- 
selves, before you launch upon that boundless main, 
from which there is no return. 

To-day ye are among the living : to-morrow the 
pulse may be still. " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to 
do, do it with thy might.'' Two objects illustrative of 
human life are ever before you — a flower and a shad- 
ow. The one to remind you of its frailty — the other 
its fleetness. Man cometh forth like a flower and is 
cut down ; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth 
not. 



CHAPTER VI. 

DIM GLIMPSES. 



"It doth not yet appear what we shall be ; but 
we know that when He sha 1 appear we shall be like 
Him, for we shall see Him as He is.*' Such language 
expresses partial concealment, and doubtless has ref- 
erence to the manifestations that Christ will hereaf- 
ter make of Himself, which we are encouraged to 
believe will be free and unrestrained. The idea is in 



90 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

strict accordance with several scriptural quotations 
which have a direct bearing on the subject. The 
Psalmist says, ^^How great is Thy goodness which 
Thou hast laid up for thera that fear Thee/^ Our 
blessed Lord says, ^^ I will that they whom thou 
hast given me be with me where I am, that they may 
behold my glory/' The Apostle Paul expressed a 
desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far 
better. St. Peter said, ^^I am a partaker of the glo- 
ry to be revealed ;'^ and the venerable disciple John 
tells us, " It doth not yet appear what we shall be/' 

Here a question naturally arises — Why is the glory 
of our future and eternal existence not more fully re- 
revealed ? It is not a matter of surprise that it 
should be concealed from the knowledge of the ungod- 
ly, who mind earthly things ; but Christians have 
an interest in it, a title to it, and a meetness for it, 
and are living in expectation of it. Then why doth 
it not appear to them what they shall be ? 

It doth not appear, because it cannot be described. 
There is no language under heaven that can portray 
heaven. The magnificence and glory lighted up 
there baffle all attempts at description. The Scrip- 
tures give us hints rather than descriptions ; and the 
things which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor 



DTM GLIMPSES. 91 

heart conceived, must be learned from experience, 
when we shall be absent from the body. Yet some, 
at least, of the elements of future happiness are plain- 
ly enough indicated in the sacred Word ; and upon 
these the mind of every one whose faith is in exercise 
will dwell with fondness, as he anticipates the time 
when he, too, shall join the multitudes around the 
throne. 

There is evidently freedom from sin in heaven. It 
is this abominable thing which God hateth, that 
hangs with such fearful weight upon owe spirits on 
earth, binding us in the dust, polluting and torment- 
ing us, till we can scarcely imagine that it will ever 
be otherwise ; but, banished from that holy place, 
it shall no more annoy, and every believer shall be es- 
tablished in holiness, and in perfect conformity to the 
will of God. 

There is deliverance from sorrow, from trial, from 
pain, from sickness and from all disappointment. 
" No more sorrow, nor crying, nor any more pain." 
There will be endless association and fellowship with 
angels and the redeemed. Distance shall not sepa- 
rate, death shall not divide. Our companions shall 
be those who compose the noblest society in the high- 
est state of existence. 



92 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

There will be constant and holy activity in the ser- 
vice of God. What the nature of this service will 
be we need not anxiously inquire ; but the energetic 
principle within us looks for no inactivity, nor elysi- 
um of inglorious ease, but a joyful augmentation of 
happiness, resulting from a full employment of the 
powers which God has given us, and which He has 
enabled us, in this world, to consecrate to Him. 

The crowning element of joy in the anticipation 
of heaven is the presence of God. The possession of 
everything else we have mentioned, apart from this, 
would leave our happiness incomplete; while this 
alone would fill the measure of our joy forever : but 
they are not to be separated ; and doubtless each is 
constantly to increase the happiness derived from all 
the rest. 

To those who love God supremely no enjoyment 
can certainly be more s'ublime than to repose in His 
presence — to behold His glory — to gaze upon His 
beauty, and to receive His continued favor, in holy 
and reverent fellowship with the infinite source of all 
true blessedness — world without end. 

The sacred writers, at diff'erent times, have given 
us these hints ; yet they wish us to understand that 
tHe half has not been told — that they have given us 



DIM GLIMPSES. 93 

only a glimpse of the glory^ and that the remainder 
can only be expressed by words that are not lawful 
for man to utter. 

Even if it could be described it could not be com- 
prehended. We not only want language to express, 
but minds to comprehend. We are no more able to 
comprehend the glory of the eternal skies^ than an 
infant of days can comprehend the difficult science of 
astronomy, or the most perplexing problem in math- 
ematics. Compared with the Divine Being, we are 
but children of the day : we were born as yesterday, 
and know nothing. If the Infinite Jehovah were 
to tell us all that He is in Himself, and all that He 
has prepared for us above, we should fall confounded 
at His feet ; there would remain no more strength 
in us. 

If it could be described and comprehended, it 
would unfit us for earthly existence. So feebly con- 
stituted, both in body and mind, as to be disqualified 
to bear excess, either of joy or grief, the wisdom of 
God is most eminently displayed in the amount of 
knowledge which He has thought fit to communicate 
on this point. The best idea we can form of what 
we shall be may be gathered from what we have been 
in our fellowship with God. We have at times en- 



94 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

joyed the most refined and exalted communion with 
the Most High ; and if these feelings were only per- 
fected and perpetuated^ they would make us just 
what we shall be ; but they would operate injurious- 
ly on our vocation on earth. 

The pastor would be ready to desert his flock, and 
the parent his family, and the patriot his country^ be- 
fore the appointed time of their change had fully 
come. Yes ; could we now see the heavenly man- 
sions — could we now hear the songs of the redeemed 
— could we now feel their joy — could we now witness 
the many friends who are waiting to hail our en- 
trance, we should be ready to break forth with im- 
patient exclamation: ^^ Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly V 

On no consideration should the contemplation of 
this glory be neglected because it is incomprehensi- 
ble. There is nothing concealed that is essential 
to our present happiness or future enjoyment. Some 
light is shed upon us, but the veil is only lifted a lit- 
tle way as an earnest of what is to come, and to excite 
a more fervent longing for enlarged developments. 
We should anticipate it as the weary traveller does the 
sweetness of home : as the tempest-tossed mariner 
does his native land, and as the fatigued and exhausted 



DIM GLIMPSES. 95 

soldier does the triumph of victory. Indeed^ contem- 
plation of what we aJiall be, is the most effectual meth- 
od of supporting the mind under the pressure of what 
we are. If afflicted, let us think of the world where the 
inhabitants shall never say they are sick. If perse- 
cuted, let us think of the state where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest. If dying, 
let us think of everlasting life, where the days of our 
mourning shall be ended, and there shall be no more 
death. 

Our subject expresses the confidence of future like- 
ness to Chkist. ''We know that when He shall ap- 
pear, we shall be like Him.'^ The glorious Being 
to whom the Apostle refers, and to whom we are to 
be assimilated, is the matchless person of Christ. 
There is nothing very transporting in the prospect Df 
being like a man. It means that we shall be like 
Him who was God manifest in the flesh — like Him 
who was the brightness of the Father's glory, and the 
express image of His person — yea, like Him who 
made all things and upholds all things ; and who 
was, and is, and is to come. The comparison does 
not regavd His body as it was in the days of His hu- 
miliation, but after His ascension, when it became free 
from every thing animal, and incapable of hunger and 



96 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

thirst — when it could move with the ease and veloc- 
ity of thought, and was eternal and glorified. How 
glorious that body is in heaven the manifestations 
which He has made of Himself on different occasions 
will convey some conception. On the mount of 
transfiguration His countenance was like the sun, 
and His raiment was white as the light. When He 
appeared to Saul, on the road to Damascus, there 
WHS at mid-day a light from heaven above the bright- 
ness of the sun shining round about Him. In that 
same glory He revealed Himself to John, in the Isle 
of Patmos, and the vision was so completely over- 
powering, that though John had previously been inti- 
mate with Him, and leaned on His bosom at the last 
supper, he now fell at His feet as dead. Conformity 
to such a glorious model is indeed a privilege that 
should fill our hearts with adoring gratitude and 
extatic rapture. See you that sun yonder in the 
pathway of the heavens ? That splendid orb is but 
a type of our coming glory ; for the righteous shall 
shine as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. 
Christ shall change our vile bodies, and fashion 
them like unto His own glorious body, according to 
the working whereby He is able to subdue all things 
unto Himself. Just as He is, so shall we be. As 



DIM GLIMPSES. 97 

we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall bear 
the image of the heavenly. We shall be holy, as He 
is holy — pure as He is pure — perfect as He is perfect. 
Sin shall no longer reign within us, nor temptation 
without us. Fears shall no more alarm, nor dangers 
threaten. The mind shall be freed from all that is 
debasing, and fitted for all that is ennobling. The 
imperfections that now cleave to us, shall drop to 
the earth, as we ascend to the skies. We shall not 
only be in heaven, but be heavenly — not only see 
Christ, but be like Him. And the resemblance 
shall not again be effaced. Then like Him, we shall 
be like Him forever — placed beyond the possibility 
of falling, in a kingdom that never shall be moved. 
There is one thought, however, we must be care- 
ful not to overlook. The Apostle does not say that 
we shall be equal to Christ — only like Him. There 
may be a resemblance, where there is no equality. 
One star may be like another star, and not equal to 
it in glory ; and a star may be like the sun, and yet 
not equal to it in magnitude and splendor. On the 
same principle a creature may be like the Creator, 
and a Christian like Christ. The Saviour says, that 
at the resurrection we shall be equal to the angels ; 
but He nowhere says we shall be equal to Him. It 



98 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

is also observable that the inspired historian refers to 
this as an absolute certanity. He does not say, We 
think, We hope, We wish, We expect ; but we know 
that when He shall appear, we shall be like Him. 
The language of the Bible is the language of confi- 
dence, founded on the veracity of Him who cannot 
lie. And has He said, and will He not do it ? 
^^Has He spoken, and will He not bring it to pass ? 
Heaven and earth shall pass away, but His word shall 
never fail." The patriarch Job said, in anticipation 
of the event, " I know that my Eedeemer liveth.'' 
St. -Paul said, "I know whom I have believed.'' 
" We know that, if this earthly house of our taberna- 
cle be dissolved, we have a building of God :'' and, 
said St. John, "We know that when He shall ap- 
pear, we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as 
He is.'' The reason assigned for the transformation 
is, that we shall see Him as He is ; not as He was— 
the object of human scorn, the victim of cruel malig- 
nity, &c., &c. We shall see in Jesus all that is vis- 
ible of the Godhead ; and he that hath seen Him, 
hath seen the Father. There is an intimate connec- 
tion between seeing Christ and being like Him. 
Even now, while we see Him through a glass darkly, 
we are changed into the same image from glory to glo- 



DIM GLIMPSES. 99 

ry, by the Spirit of the Lord. If such be the effect 
of an indistinct and an occasional glimpse of Him, 
what must it be to see Him as He is, and to see Him 
always ? It is remarked of those who have to wait 
upon a king, that they have a certain air and address 
peculiar to the Court ; and if this be true of those 
who dwell in the presence of an earthly monarch, 
with how much greater propriety may it be affirmed 
of those who dwell in the presence of the King of 
kings. The countenance of Moses shone so resplen- 
dently, when he came down from communion with 
God, on the mount, that Aaron and the children of 
Israel were afraid to come near him. Exceeding 
anything that has ever been witnessed on earth will 
be the lustre of our persons, when we see Christ at 
His appearing, and are like Him. 

But when shall He appear ? It is not given to us 
to know the times and seasons which the Father has 
kept in His own power. We know that Christ will 
appear. We know how, and why He will appear ; 
but the precise period is wisely concealed from us. 
Of that day and hour knoweth no man ; no, not the 
angels in heaven. " The day of the Lord will come 
as a thief in the night. Blessed is that servant whom 
his Lord, when He cometh, shall find watching.'' 



100 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

^^ Be ye also ready^ for^ in such an hour as ye think 
not, the Son of Man cometh/' When we look for a 
friend, we usually prepare for his reception. 0, how 
diligently should we prepare for the coming of our 
best Friend — the Friend that sticketh closer than a 
brother. " Seeing we look for Him, what manner of 
persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and 
godliness T' Shall we sleep as do others ? Shall 
we play and trifle ? Shall we smite our fellow-ser- 
vant, and eat and drink with the drunken ? Shall 
we not rather seek to be found of Him in peace, with- 
out spot, and blameless ? 

The subject shows us the vastness of the love of 
God. Th^re never was, there never could be any- 
thing in us to attract the Divine regards, since every 
imagination of our hearts is only evil continually. 
To all eternity the wonders of this love will be un- 
folding ; and, through all eternity, it will remain as 
far from being unfolded as the first moment it was 
revealed : and, after all the raptures it will have oc- 
casioned, we shall be compelled to exclaim with 
astonishment: "Behold what manner of love the 
Father hath bestowed on us, that we should be 
called the sons of God.'' Do you belong to this fam- 
ily ? Evidence your adoption by a renunciation of 



DIM GLIMPSES. 101 

every object that would interfere with its claims, by 
the supremacy of your affection for Christ, and by 
the observance of His laws. ^^ Te are my friends/' 
said He, ^^ if ye do whatsoever I command you.'' 

The theme reminds us of the blessedness of Divine 
Eevelation. Had it not been for the Gospel which 
brings life and immortality to light, we must have 
been ignorant, at this moment, of what we are — as 
also of what we should be. The progress of litera- 
ture and science has shed no light on the subject ; 
and, unaided by a more sure word of prophecy, we 
must ever have remained in darkness and obscurity. 
The world by wisdom knew not God. 

The Scriptures attach much importance to the res- 
urrection from the dead ; and whenever the blessed- 
ness of a future world is spoken of, it is, with few ex- 
ceptions, referred to this event. " Thou shalt be rec- 
ompensed at the resurrection of the just." " If by 
any means I might attain unto the resurrection of 
the dead." Ever let this truth be combined with the 
thought of death. When you look into the grave 
and tremble, think of Him who is the resurrection 
and the life, and who has said : ^^ He that belie veth 
in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." 
Think of Him when called to suffer the loss of pious 



102 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

relatives. Kemember that you have not parted with 
them forever : your mother^ your brother, your sister, 
your child shall rise again : ^^for, if we believe that 
Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which 
sleep in Jesus, will Gtod bring with Him/^ 



CHAPTER VII. 
I WOULD ^"OT LIVE ALWAY. 



The strongest instinct in all the gradations of an- 
imated existence is the love of life. It was implant- 
ed in our nature by the hand of God for the noblest 
purpose. It influences our feelings and actions in 
every object of i3ursuit, and in every relation we sus- 
tain ; and the manifbld claims upon our attention 
are just so many evidences of its reasonableness and 
propriety. It operates a wholesome restraint against 
unnecessary exposure to danger, and preserves from 
suicide. It prompts to personal defence, and con- 
tributes largely and essentially to the public safety. 

Those whom the Creator has made dependent on 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 103 

US have a right to our continued existence as long as 
it can be maintained. The love we bear to them, 
also, mingles with this desire to perpetuate our being, 
and thus strengthens the bonds which unite us to the 
world. But life has its period as well as its claims. 
"When the brief span allotted us has been nearly 
completed, and its duties have been faithfully dis- 
charged, we should, as Christians, no longer tena- 
ciously cling to the present, nor shrink with shudder- 
ing at the opening of the future. The province of 
the religion of the cross is to prepare us for the one 
or the other, as the All-wise Disposer of events may 
deem expedient. 

The venerable patriarch Jacob, whose brow was 
covered with the snows of age, when standing before 
the Egyptian monarch, said : '^ Few and evil h'ave 
the days of the years of my life been, and I have not 
attained unto the days of the years of the life of my 
fathers, in the days of their pilgrimage/' The 
Psalmist sighed, ^^ that I had wings like a dove ; 
for then would I fly away and be at rest.'' And Job 
exclaimed: ^^ I would not live alway." The adop- 
tion of such language must not be understood as 
manifesting an indisposition to life, or a murmuring 
spirit under its trials, but simply as an intimation 



104 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

that there are numerous and powerful reasons why 
the Christian would prefer " to depart and be with 
Christ, which is far better/' 

The man of God would not live alway, because of 
the continued consciousness which he feels of the 
presence of sin, both within and around him. Sin 
is a word easily spoken^ and soon written — a mere 
monosyllable, but of mighty and solemn import. It 
is this inbeing of sin in the believer that forms the 
baneful root of all the evil — the source of all the sor- 
row, and the spring of all the suffering that afflicts 
him. The one loud, piercing cry of his soul has ever 
been, ^^ wretched man that I am ! who shall de- 
liver me from the body of this death ?" The weight 
of oppression under which he groans is the principle 
of indwelling sin, as a body corrupt, constantly borne 
about with him ; lying down and rising up with him; 
carried into his most hallowed and sacred engage- 
ments ; inseparably, constantly, and ever prompting 
him to evil. The clearer one's perception of holiness, 
and the greater his attainments in conformity to the 
image of Cheist, the more sensitively he recoils from 
this burden of sin and death. The higher he climbs 
the pinnacle of Christian excellence, the more intol- 
erable it seems to him, and the more ready is he, 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 105 

with profound humiliation, to bow his spirit in the 
dust, and cry, ^^ God be merciful to me a sinner/' 

St. Paul acknowledged, just after his call to the 
Apostleship, that he was not worthy to be called an 
apostle, because he persecuted the Church of God ; 
and when he had made still greater progress in the 
divine life, he said, " I am less than the least of all 
saints/' Then, just before his death, when his views 
of heaven were brightest, and his knowledge of him- 
self the clearest and most unmistakable, he exclaim- 
ed, '^I am the chief of sinners/' His proficiency 
produced humility, and his humility was deeply sin- 
cere before God and man. 

There is also much in the world around, which it 
is impossible to witness without emotions of pain 
and regret. '^ The whole creation groaneth and trav- 
aileth in pain together until now." Disorder and 
confusion are rife on every hand. Exasperation and 
rebellion confront us at every turn. The victims of 
sin, and its patrons^ are in the marts of daily trans- 
actions. The works of God are perverted to sinful 
and criminal purposes. The sun lights the thief to 
his spoil. The moon shows the robber his prey. The 
stars guide the course of the privateer. The winds fill 
the sails of the pirate craft. The earth gives gold 



106 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

and silver^ which are abused to satisfy men's avarice. 
Architecture, and music, and painting, and statuary 
are made to contribute their resources in support of 
objects alien to pure and undefiled religion. The 
truth of the Bible is disputed. The sanctity of the 
Sabbath is desecrated ; and arguments are drawn 
from the heavens above, and from the earth beneath, 
to prove that there are no footprints of a God in the 
one or the other. The Christian's ear is pained. 
^^ His soul is sick with every day's report of wrong 
and outrage with which the earth is filled. Lands 
intersected by a narrow Frith abhor each other. 
Mountains interposed make enemies of nations who 
had, else, like kindred droj)s, been mingled into one.'' 
This is just the reverse of what was originally intend- 
ed. It is creation blotted, marred, injured, restless, 
wrecked, discordant, diseased, out of course, unnatur- 
al, pierced to its core, convulsed to its centre, clothed 
in sackcloth and crape. The calamitous results 
that follow in the train of sucli wide-spread disorder 
and ruin, make us long for the period when the pro- 
lific parent of evil shall be destroyed, and headaches, 
and heartaches, and tears, and sorrows shall be done 
away. 

The Christian would not live alioay^ on account 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 107 

of the infirmities that cleave to him. We read^ in 
one of the Gospels, of " a certain woman who had 
been healed of a spirit of infirmity/' Her spinal 
cord was contracted, and she was bowed down, and 
could in no- wise lift up herself. We also read that 
many came to Christ to be healed of their infirmi- 
ties, and He <;ured them. St. Paul enjoined upon 
Timothy the use of a little wine ; and the plea upon 
which he enforced the duty was his often infirmity. 
The frail nature, which we caress so fondly, is encom- 
passed with a cloud of infirmities, both physical and 
constitutional. We embody and carry about with- 
in us the seeds and germs of decay, which, in any cli- 
mate, in any place, and at any moment, may devel- 
ope themselves, and consign us suddenly to the grave. 
The soul has its infirmities as well as the body. 
Sin, and the curse which followed in its wake, have 
sown man's path, from his cradle to the tomb, with 
mingled seed. The tare grows side by side with the 
wheat ; the thistle with the rose ; the nightshade 
with the myrtle ; the cypress with the laurel. Joy 
and sorrow, laughter and tears, hope and despond- 
ency ; the marriage peal and the tolling bell — all 
blend together in our march to eternity. The woof 
of our humanity is of many colors. The stones that 



108 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

pave our pathway to the grave are .of variegated hues. 
The temperament of one man is naturally warm, 
excitable and impetuous : his feelings are ardent 
and impulsive ; his affections fervent, his sensibili- 
ties strong : he can sympathize, can weep, can love. 
The temperament of another is cold, phlegmatic, 
immovable : he has but little of the emotional, 
and it requires an overwhelming calamity to arouse 
him to feeling. The mental characteristics of others 
are those of depression and gloom. Overlooking 
the bright and cheerful tints of life's landscape, 
they love to ruminate upon its dark and sombre 
hues — always gazing upon the gloomiest aspect of 
the picture, and dwelling with morbid pleasure on 
the unpromising and hopeless. Others, again, are 
of a sanguine and hopeful temperament : they live 
in a world of illusion and romance ; they leap to 
conclusions without adequate premises ; they assume 
facts without proper data : they are credulous, un- 
suspecting and confiding, and take for granted what 
others accept only upon demonstration. Now all 
these are unquestionably infirmities that cling to our 
fallen humanity. It is an infirmity to be too en- 
thusiastic, and it is an infirmity to be too cold. It 
is an infirmity to be too trusting, and it is an infirm- 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 109 

ity to be too suspicious. It is an infirmity to be too 
much fascinated with the sunny, golden, and mellow 
tints of the picture, and equally so to be mentally 
absorbed and depressed with its shaded and gloomy 
coloring. "This is my infirmity/' may be said by 
each. The most eminently spiritual are not exempt 
from this general weakness, in some form or other 
of its manifestation. They are conscious of their 
peculiar infirmities, as so many plague-spots, on 
their character, and deeply deplore them. Were we 
only cognizant of the secret mental anguish which 
oppresses their spirits, because they are unable to 
overcome them, we should not marvel at the oft- 
fetched sigh, significant, but unexpressed — " I would 
not live alway." 

The Christian would not live alway on account of 
the imperfection of his hnowedge. Here we know only 
in part, and we prophesy in part. We see through 
a glass darkly. There is an obscurity attaching 
to our views in things which we partially see. Our 
greatest light is in the neighborhood of the darkest 
shadow. The principles that we know are generally 
associated with a number of others, with which we 
are not acquainted. The known is the vestibule of 
the unknown ; and the more we know, the more we 



110 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

find remains to be known. Objects seem presented to 
our minds like the sun seen densely through a mist ; 
at one time appearing, then disappearing — lost in 
the thickness of the fog. Sometimes we imagine we 
see : then, again, our vision is obscured ; we only per- 
ceive glimmering appearances — dim outlines. We 
walk as through a valley enclosed by lofty moun- 
tains, their shadows adding to our obscurities, and 
their mighty masses standing between us and the 
prospect which lies beyond. 

The doctrine of the Trinity is a mystery which we 
are incompetent to unravel. It is a revelation, but 
not an analysis ; above our reason, but not against 
it. Who by searching can find out God ? Who 
can find out the AL]inGHTY to perfection ? His cen- 
tre is everywhere. His circumference is nowhere. 

Our blessed Lord was truly God, and truly man. 
There coalesced in Him the finite and the infinite, 
want and fulness^ weakness and strength, life and 
death. 

The agency of the Holy Spirit is equally myste- 
rious. ^' The wind bloweth where it listeth, and 
thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell 
whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth ; so is every 
one that is born of the Spirit." 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. Ill 

There are few truths of revelation but are more or 
less inexplicable. They are partly in the shadow^ 
and partly luminous ; seen only at certain angles 
and from certain points^ and intended principally to 
exercise our faith. They are parts of a chain, the 
two ends of which are distinctly seen, while the in- 
termediate links are lost in the stream of mystery 
that flows between. 

The excellency of the knowledge of Christianity is, 
that it makes its possessor anxious to obtain still 
larger discoveries. The apparent symptoms of his 
weakness are thus, in fact, the evidences of his gran- 
deur. They become to him the spring of an endless 
progression, the proof of a vast capacity of improve- 
ment, and the fore-token of a brighter destiny, where 
the veil will be rent, and the clouds will be scattered, 
and he will see clearly amid the splendors and the 
noon of an everlasting day. There can be little 
doubt that this progressive acquaintance with truths 
that we now see dimly on earth, with additional ones 
that will be discovered in heaven, will constitute 
much of the joy and happiness of the saved. We 
can already perceive some faint illustrations of this 
sentiment in the ecstacy of a child when the beauties 
of a flower, or the exquisite crystallizations of a miu- 



112 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

eral are first pointed out to him. We have seen 
how his mind has become perfectly enchanted, as we 
have proceeded with our explanation of analogies, 
affinities and points of contact, and the wonder that 
he has manifested in not seeing these things before. 
There is much of the same feeling in the men of riper 
age, when they are successful in adding to their stock 
of useful knowledge. The man of science will trav- 
erse Arctic seas, and burning deserts, and leave all 
that one loves at home, and face all that one dreads 
abroad, in order to find some new plant, or become 
acquainted with some new mineral, or see an eclipse, 
or planetary transit from a new position. It will 
throw him into rapture to catch a gleam of undiscov- 
ered truth ; and the more so, if he should happen to 
be the. instrument of bringing it permanently to light. 
Now what is all this but a shadowing forth of the 
joy and rapture we shall feel in the realms of blessed- 
ness, when we shall no longer look through cold and 
misty media, but see face to face, and know as we 
are known. We shall have revealed to us in that 
world an infinite panorama, of which our present 
limited faculties can form but feeble conceptions. 
The horizon of our knowledge will ever widen ; each 
new height we attain will show other heights yet to 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAT. 113 

be reached. Ever upward^ and ever onward ; light 
and joy increasing, as the cycles of eternity move 
round. The mind can scarcely dwell on the contem- 
plation^ without emotions akin to impatience. The 
contrast between ignorance here and knowledge there, 
the clouds of earth, and the sunshine of heaven, is 
enough to produce in every pious heart the feeling 
exclamation of the patriarch, '' I would not live 
alway.^' 

The Ghirstian would not live alway, away from 
the society of the glorified. " So long as we are at 
home in the body/' said the Apostle, ^^ we are absent 
from the Lord. But we are confident, and willing 
rather to be absent from the body, and to be present 
with the Lord." '' Then shall we be satisfied, when 
we awake up in His likeness." Christ's glory is the 
vision of heaven. It lights up all its splendor, and 
spreads over all its tenantry. The sight of Him, as 
enthroned in blessedness, will complete the perfec- 
tion of glory in all His people. It will bring out 
His name in their foreheads, with insufferable bright- 
ness, like as when a mirror is turned to the sun. 
The Lord of life and glory has said of him that over- 
cometh, *^I will write upon him the name of my 
God, and the name of the city of my God, and my new 



114 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

name/' And when they look upon His face, the glory 
of that name will shine forth in their whole being 
They may be under a cloud now, just as a pure and 
spotless mirror might be rolled up and covered round, 
and concealed in a veil of dark cloth. But the in- 
stant you unroll the cloth and take away the veil, and 
hold it up to the sun, it becomes so flashing and glo- 
rious that it dazzles you to look at it. So, when 
these folds and wrapjDings of earth, that veil the 
dwelling of the soul in this earthly tabernacle, are 
drawn away, and the tent is taken down, and the 
spirit without fault, without wrinkle, is before the 
throne and sees Christ, then will it shine forth in 
His likeness — glorious in His glory. 

Next to the happiness of being with Christ and 
like Him, is an everlasting association with the good 
and the blessed — the crowned and the glorified of 
all ages and nations, who have washed their robes, 
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 
Pure, spotless, and resplendent as the noon-day sun, 
will be the glorious company of the Apostles, the 
noble army of martyrs, the cloud of witnesses slain 
for the testimony of Jesus, the valiant Christian he- 
roes whose bones lie bleaching in the mountain snows, 
the departed pious of our own memory, the intimate 



I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 115 

friend with whom we took sweet counsel, the revered 
and venerable parent^ stricken down at a time when 
we most needed his sympathy, the babe on whose 
beautiful brow we gazed with such fondness as it left 
us for the skies — with these ransomed souls, clothed 
in redemption robes, and standing on the shores of 
that glassy sea, we shall sing the triumphant song 
of Moses and the Lamb. 

The dearest objects of earthly attachment torn 
from us are not lost, but gone before. Lost is a 
heathen word, and should be expunged from our vo- 
cabulary. They are only lost in the sense that the 
stars are lost at mid-day. We cannot see them. 

*' The dead are like the stars by day 
Eemoved from mortal eye ; 
Yet not extinct, they hold their way 
In glory through the sky." 

They are living in the same house of our Father, 
occupying the higher story, while we remain in the 
lower. But this is not our rest, because it is pollut- 
ed. It is a checkered scene ; a peevish April day — 
light and shade, cloud and sunshine, tears and pleas- 
ures — ^^a little sun, a little rain, and then night 
sweeps along the plain, and all things fade away.'' 
The rest reserved for us is above. The treasure that 



116 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

corrodes not is in heaven : our citizenship is there. 
If our hearts aie there, the mellowing influence of 
earth's changes and vicissitudes will dispose us often 
to repeat, '' I would not live alway/' 

** I would not live alway : I ask not to stay 
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way : 
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here, 
Are enough for life's woes : full enough for its cheer." 

The demands and characteristics of life, as applied 
to us here, are those of toil and labor. Whether we 
occupy the more public and honored stations of the 
Church, or the more ordinary and less resj)onsible 
ones, the task assigned us is hard and toilsome — the 
task of resisting evil, enduring ajSliction, bearing re- 
proach, contending with Satan, acquiring holiness, and 
of attempting to diffuse, against the prejudices and 
passions of men, the kingdom of the Eedeemer — this 
constitutes a work which must be done with all our 
might. When finished, we go home. We sleep 
in Jesus. We take our rest. The body rests in the 
grave ; and the soul rests in the Paradise of the 
Lord, surrounded by the elements of a sweet and 
balmy tranquility which shall never be disturbed. 
As laborers, we leave the field, and lay down the im- 
plements of husbandry, to use them no more, As 



THE FADED LEAF. 117 

travellers, we reach the end of our long and weari- 
some journey, and cross the threshhold of our Fath- 
er's mansion. As soldiers, we take the helmet, thf; 
corselet, and the panoply of war, and cast away the 
spear, the shield and the sword. As mariners^ we 
heave over the last ocean billow, and enter the de- 
sired haven. The winds are still, the commotion is 
hushed, the rest is placid. The burden and the con- 
flict are over. With those who have preceded us in 
the righteous struggle, we enjoy the Mediatok's 
presence. The portal gates are passed ; mortality 
is swallowed up of life — a life of stronger thread, of 
brighter colors spun, and spun forever. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

THE FADED LEAF. 



There is a very striking analogy between the va- 
rious appearances of nature and the successive stages 
of human life. Their resemblance to each other 
would seem to indicate that they have both the same 



118 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

author, and that the former was intended as a per- 
petual illustration and admonition to the latter. 
Had it pleased the Divine Being, He could have cre- 
ated a perpetual variance between our condition and 
the scenery around us. He could so have aggravat- 
ed the curse which He pronounced, as to have caused 
the aspects of nature to assume an immitigable 
sameness. He could have reduced the almost endless 
variety of animals that He has given for our use, to 
the few that we use for food, and thus have left us 
without quadrupeds to please us with their gambols, 
— without insects to sport in the sun, and without 
birds to delight us with their flight and their song. 
He could have caused to disappear all the beauty of 
the landscape, by commanding the valley to rise and 
the hill to sink, and by substituting for the tall and 
luxuriant tree the thorn and the briar. With one 
volition He could withdraw the light of the moon 
and the stars, and permit the sun to shine only 
through a cloud. If all this had been brought upon 
us for our transgressions, it would have been richly 
deserved. But the scene around us is so fair, that 
the garden of Eden was not more adapted to Adam 
in his state of innocence, than the present condition 
of nature corresponds with our altered circum- 



THE FADED LEAF. 119 

stances. Whether animate or inanimate, nature 
seems closely to sympatize with om' lot, and to re- 
mind us of our end. The poet has drawn from it 
some of his most pathetic images, the moralist many 
of his best arguments, and the prophet his most 
arousing monitions. 

The restlessness of man may be likened to thfe 
constant agitation of the ocean, and the uncertainty 
of human friendships, to the instability of that ele- 
ment. The close of the Christian's life is beautifully 
illustrated by the setting of the unclouded sun ; and 
the calm and twilight of evening are usually sought 
as friendly to meditation. If life, in Scripture lan- 
guage, be compared to a day, it has its morning, its 
noon, its evening and its night. And if compared 
to a year, it has its flowering spring, its summer's 
ardent strength, its sober autumn, fading into age; 
and pale concluding winter comes at last and shuts 
the scene. 

The lessons of Autumn force themselves home upon 
our hearts with silent and eloquent appeals. The 
fields that were waving with their golden produce 
are barren and bare. The skies that were sunny 
and warm are cloudy and cold. The flowers that 
shed their fragrance to the winds are broken in their 



120 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

stem^ and being turned into dishonorable ashes. The 
birds that gave music to the groves have become 
silent. The insects have gradually disappeared, and 
those which Providence instructs to provide for the 
winter have begun to live on the fruit of their indus- 
try. The trees are being stripped of the beauty and 
luxuriance of their foliage. The leaves that were 
fresh and green have become sere and yellow, and ev- 
ery breath of air diminishes their number. Shrivel- 
led and lifelesSj they congregate and rustle along our 
footpath ; and the few that still adhere to the 
branches, only wait a ruder blast to carry them off. 

Nature dies before our eyes, to assure us that the 
winter of life will surely come. It prospectively cel- 
ebrates our obsequies, and pronounces in solemn ac- 
cents, " We all do fade as a leaf A faded leaf is 
our monitor to-day. We may profit by the truths 
it proclaims, and apply the instructions to our hearts 
which it so wisely and mercifully affords. 

The faded leaf is indicative of the last and clos- 
ing season of human life. It falls at a time when 
the earth has yielded her strength, and the last traces 
of her beauty are fading away. We gaze with de- 
light on the bloom of vegetation as it passes before 
us. We watch the leaf in its buddings and expan- 



THE FADED LEAF. 121 

sion. We trace its progress through all the varied 
hues of life and beauty ; and we witness its decay. 
The event is of annual recurrence, though we do not 
properly reflect on the greatness and rapidity of the 
change, and we manifest little or no surprise at the 
desolation in which it leaves us. Did we properly 
reflect on its analogy, we should remember that we 
all do fade as a leaf. We have our seasons of health 
and vigor, bloom and beauty, sickness and infirmity, 
decay and death, hurrying us through successive sta- 
ges, so noiselessly, that the last and closing scenes 
generally take us by surprise. From one period to 
another we advance in the fulfilment of the course as- 
signed us. Now we are children, now we are youths, 
now we are men, now we are passed the zenith ; 
and before we are aware the infirmities of age betok- 
en the approach of death. The several grades of life 
have their appropriate charms and delights — their 
peculiar comforts and associations — their special con- 
solations and animating hopes. And just as the hus- 
bandman is assured of the seasons of seed-time and 
harvest, and that if the one be neglected, the other 
will arrive destitute of the promised blessing ; so, if 
the spring-time of youth be allowed to pass unim- 
proved, the summer of manhood will come without 



122 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

satisfaction and usefulness, and the autumn of ma- 
ture age will neither be fruitful nor honorable. 

Youth is the time for good impressions and im- 
provement ; and^ when consecrated to the service of 
GoD^ secures fruit unto holiness^ and the end ever- 
lasting life. 

The faded leaf is emhlematic of frailty. It puts 
forth its bud in the spring, flourishes in the sum- 
mer^ and withers in autumn. Its birth, growth, 
maturity and death, are all comprised within the 
short space of a few months. Some leaves are pre- 
mature in their decay. They exhibit symptoms of 
decline at an early period. They change their com- 
plexion, and are blasted, ere they are fully grown 
'^ As for man his days are as grass, as a flower of the 
field so he flourisheth, for the wind passeth over it 
and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no 
more. Surely every man, at his best estate, is alto- 
gether vanity.'' In infancy, he is the very type of 
weakness, the embodiment of wants, which he has no 
power to supply, and exposed to a thousand dangers, 
which he can neither foresee nor control. In the vig- 
or and pride of manhood he is like a leaf driven with 
the wind, subject to every breath and every blast. 
In old age he is withered and wasted, a walking 



THE FADED LEAF. 123 

shadow, a living death. The evil doys have come 
upon, him and he is every moment liable and ready to 
die. He spends his years as a tale that is told. 
Like yon solitary leaf suspended to the bough by a 
single thread, and threatened to be severed by the 
next cold breath, we are all frail in texture, and 
equally fading. Among the young there are not a 
few who are already quivering on their stems. The 
symptoms of feebleness which they exhibit betoken 
that the seeds of disease are sapping the vitals of 
their constitution, and that their sun will probably 
go down while it is yet day. And even on the part 
of those, whose healthy appearance would seem to 
promise a more lengthened existence, there is the 
same cold uncertainty. The same as when you look 
out upon some stately and magnificent tree, amid the 
calmness and serenity of a summer eve, it bids fair 
to retain its beauty for a long season ; but the east 
wmd arises, and the cruel blast tears the foliage from 
the branches, causing the leaves that were green and 
flourishing yesterday, to be withered and strewn. 

"Like leaves on trees, the race of man is found, 

Now green in youth, now withered on the ground: 
Another race the following Spring supplies — 

They fall successive, and successive rise. 
So generations in their course decay, 
So flourish these, when those are passed away." 



124 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

The Faded Leaf^ as it falls^ tells of separation, — 
separation from its parent stem, and from its sister 
leaves. Whether it occupied one of the topmost or 
lower branches, is of no moment now : it falls to the 
earth a disunited and useless thing. Such is death ! 
It severs, alike, those who occupy the most elevated, 
and those who move in a more humble sphere. The 
monarch is no exception to his subjects. The head 
that wears the crown must lie in the dust. " The 
rich and the poor meet together.'' Death separates 
the soul from the body, with all their sympathies and 
endearments ; and separates from the scenes and cir- 
cumstances of earth, with which we have been so in- 
timately familiar. 

The soul and the body, like fast and attached 
friends, have travelled in company over many a weary 
road, and lingered on many a sunny spot ; but now, 
the one speeds its flight to the region of spirits, and 
the other mingles with its parent dust. If, therefore, 
the happiness of which we are susceptible, in the 
present life, result exclusively from the seeing of the 
eye, or the hearing of the ear, or the gratification of 
the senses ; — if it consist in, or be dependent on, 
what is material, how will it fare with us in that 
world, which is eminently spiritual ? If our supreme 



THE FADED LEAF. 125 

enjoyment be derived from aught that is earthly, in 
what shall it consist, when, from the earth and all its 
possessions, we are torn forever ? If it be connected 
with time only, where shall we find it when the an- 
gel, with one foot on the land, and the other on the 
sea, shall lift up his hand, and swear by Him that 
liveth forever and ever, that time shall be no longer ? 

The so called happiness that springs from earthly 
objects is no happines ; it is only the semblance with 
the substance. It might content us if we were only 
mortal ; but it affords no satisfaction for the immor* 
tal spirit. True happiness is an abiding happiness, 
which, like its giver and recipient, shall live fo7ever. 

Death not only separates the soul from the body ; 
it sunders and disunites us from our relatives and 
friends. The brightest sky is often suddenly shroud- 
ed in gloom, and the most sanguine are taught that 
" the clouds return after the rain.'' The happiest 
home is converted into the house of mourning. Shad- 
ows fall on the gleesome circle, buoyant spirits are 
bruised and bounding hearts are broken. The event 
that makes such a breach in our affections is one 
which we may expect to meet, and for which we 
should at all times be prepared. Among the mourn- 
ers, of whom the earth is full, many are at this mo- 



126 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ment uttering the language of the orphan children of 
Jerusalem ; language^ every word of which is the 
sound of melting tenderness, and every letter of which 
seems written with a tear : ^^We are orphans and 
fatherless, and our mothers are widows/' 

The mighty tree of the world still stands, but its 
leaves, the teeming inhabitants, are daily fading, and 
dropping off; and the rapidity with wnich one mass 
of foliage succeeds another, reminds us that one gen- 
eration passeth away, and another cometh. The fad- 
ing process, which the withered leaves undergo, is 
the inevitable consequence of their bloom. The last 
stage of their existence is but the result of the first. 
The lesson it teaches is admonitory. 

The religious truth taught us by Anatomy and 
Physiology is, that there are in the human system 
the seeds of death. The condition of life is death. 
Paradoxical as this may seem, it is fully sustained by 
facts. The fundamental components of the animal 
frame are cells and their derivatives, through w^hich 
the vital action of the body is kept up. These liv- 
ing cells are said to have a definite limit, Avhich, 
when once reached, a diminution in the vital action 
ensues. Hence there is a steady wasting away of all 
the parts of the animal mechanism. The power to 



THE FADED LEAF. 127 

repair these wastes gradually ceases^ and death super- 
venes. What a striking commentary is this law of 
Physiology on the original curse pronounced on man 
in Eden. God said to him^ '^ In the day thou eatest 
thereof/' (meaning the tree of knowledge of good and 
evil) " thou shalt surely die ]'' or, as it is in Hebrew, 
Dying thou shalt die. On that day of disobedience 
he became mortal. There was produced such a 
change in his physical system, that he ever bore about 
a dying life. The process of decline and death was 
made to pervade every part of his constitution. 
Every movement of the muscles, every exercise of the 
brain, every action we perform, causes the death of 
some of the cells of the organ that performs it ; we 
die daily, in order that we may live. The process of 
decay is gradual, and often imperceptible, working se- 
cretly and insidiously ; ripening, as with greater or 
less rapidity, for the garner of the grave. 

" We must all die,'' said the woman of Tekoah, 
'^ and be as water spilt on the ground, which cannot 
be gathered up." This is a truth, which appeals so 
closely to our daily experience as to require no reason- 
ing to prove it. Where are the myriads of human 
beings that have been born into the world since the 
beginning ? The stream of time continues to wind 



128 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

its course, but where are the people who have been 
accustomed to dwell on its banks ? We have vast 
forests, and crowded cities, but where are the hands 
that planted the one or built the other ? We have 
books in quartos and folios that were written many 
centuries ago, but where are their authors ? The 
earth, like an aged mother, remains, but where are 
her children ? ^^ Our fathers, where are they, and 
the j)rophets, do ihdj live forever ?" We have all 
occupied a portion of the past, but where are the 
thousands who were cotemporary with us when we 
started ? Where are the busy hands, the burning 
hearts, the gleaming eyes, the melting voices, and 
the old ftimiliar faces that were wont to cheer us ? 
Ah ! the busy hands are motionless. The burning 
hearts are cold. The gleaming eyes are extinguished. 
The melting voices are silent ; and the old familiar 
faces are covered with the putrescent soil. The dark 
and dream-like past has a thousand times been peo- 
pled with living forms, and a thousand times it has 
been emptied. A thousand times has the earth 
brought forth children ; and a thousand times she 
has been bereaved. The grave that is never satisfied, 
and never says, '^ It is enough,'' has swallowed them 
all. And the grave will receive us : ^^ If we wait, 



THE FADED LEAF. 129 

the grave is our house/' Every step we take is a 
dead march to it. Every breath we draw to length- 
en life only shortens it. The more we live the less 
we have to live. Our existence is a dying life. 1 
am dying while I am now speaking. You are dy- 
ing while you are now hearing. And we all do fade 
as a leaf. These solemn and stern assurances are be- 
ing continually addressed to us^ yet but few heed 
them. Every species of arithmetic we will learn, ex- 
cept that of counting our days. And every art of 
economy we will practice, but that of setting our 
house in order. To know our danger is the first step 
of safety ; and to provide for its issues is the highest 
act of wisdom. The prudent man foreseeth the evil, 
and hideth himself. To him the forewarnings of na- 
ture are his forewarnings. 

The faded leaf is the effect of the curse. It came 
along with the train of calamities under which the 
creation groans. We must not suppose that when 
nature was in other respects amaranthine, the leaf 
was an exception. No, Eden was always green, ever 
blooming. It was the blight of man's disobedience, 
which spread a curse over the ground in all its produc- 
tions. If an inhabitant of some neighboring planet 
were to visit our earth, and view the scene of desola- 



130 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

tion around us^ nothing could appear to him more 
appalling. Taking his stand-point amid the cham- 
bers of the dyings and the sepulchres of the dead, he 
would naturally inquire, Whence came this ? What 
has brought upon this beautiful globe such terrible 
disaster ? What caused pain in the region of pleas- 
ure ? sorrow, in the region of joy ? and corrup- 
tion and death, in the region of life ? Why are 
men born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward ? 
Why is their sure and sad inheritance suffering and 
death ? The solution is found in the text. " We 
are all as an unclean thing ; and all our righteous- 
ness are as filthy rags ;'* and we all do fade as a leaf. 
These are the wrecks of which sin is the author. 
Sin brought death into the world, and all our woe. 
It has corrupted all that was pure — defaced all that 
was lovely, and filled all with the seeds of decay. 
Death, wherever we meet it, repeats the word, sin. 
The toll of every funeral knell utters the word, sin. 
Every blow of the hammer that drives a nail into the 
coffin strikes the sharp, quick word, sin. Every 
passing hearse rattles the word sin. Every burial 
procession, that drags its slow and sable length along 
our streets says sin. Every burial service tells oi sin. 
Every stroke of the chisel upon the grave stone clicks 



THE FADED LEAF. 131 

the word sin. It is the graveyard's unvarying mes- 
sage by day and by night, like the cricket's mono- 
tone. It is the one startling monosyllable which the 
unsounded sea moans forth from its charnel depths. 
It is the one fearful cry which dwells on the bloodless 
lips of the pestilence that walketh in darkness, and 
waste th at noonday. It is the one appalling shriek, 
which rings louder than the roar of artillery on the 
field of blood. And there is not a day, not an hour, 
not a minute, not a second of time, when death, a§ he 
hurls his dart into some victim's vitals, does not shout 
the word, which tells the whole story of his deeds, 
and that word is sin. Oh sin ! thou abominable 
thing which God hateth, thou shalt have no more 
dominion over us. We renounce all thy desires and 
pretensions, so that we will not follow, nor be led by 
them. God being our helper, we will rise from the 
death of sin, to the life of righteousness. We will 
mortify all evil and corrupt affections, and daily pro- 
ceed in all virtue and godliness of living. 

The fading leaves impress us by their varied com- 
plexion, and numhers. It would seem as if God 
meant to arouse us to reflection by the very beauty 
of the picture. The mind that is inclined to be med- 
itative will slide into a pensive mood, when looking 



132 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING 

out on the assemblage of colors which bedeck the 
landscape, in its autumn dress. The variegated tints 
of the foliage, the rich golden yellow, the bright red, 
the deep crimson, the pale yellow, the brown and the 
dark green, are all symptomatic of life's close. They 
show clearly which species first lose the vital princi- 
ple that attaches them to their branches. The frost 
and the wind cause them to fall in clusters, and rus- 
tle along our pathway. The more hardy ones may 
adhere, for a time, to their stems, in spite of the 
blast ; but the myriads of leaves that are constantly 
dropping, give certain intimations that even the most 
tenacious will ere long lose their hold. 

But admitting that death should not immediately 
arrest us ; supi^ose that a kind Providence protract 
our existence to a century, what then ? The friends 
of our youth are gone, the friends of our manhood 
are removed, the heart has been pierced and bruised 
by the oft severing of ties, the senses one after anoth- 
er have lost their sensibility, and the remanent of 
strength is labor and sorrow. We have outlived our 
generation and become strangers in our own land, in 
our own homes, surrounded with a new, volatile, and 
unsympathizing race, treading hard upon our heels. 

Since life is brief and fading, we have the more 



INTREPID FAITH. 133 

urgent need to improve it with diligence. It becomes 
our wisdom to work while it is day. The season of 
usefulness will soon be over. Now is the golden 
opportunity to glorify the Saviour, and serve oui 
generation. As the outward man decays, let us fos- 
ter the inward and the spiritual, till, having gained 
the shores of the heavenly Paradise, we repose in its 
amaranthine bowers. Then shall we feast on the 
fruits of the Tree of Life, and, like its never-fading 
leaves, shall live forever. 



CHAPTEE IX. 

INTREPID FAITH 



'^ I HAVE fought a good fight, I have finished my 
course, I have kept the faith : henceforth there is laid 
up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, 
the righteous judge shall give me at that day ; and 
not to me, only, but unto all them that long for His 
appearing.'^ 

This is the language of triumph, in anticipation of 
the close of life. It afi*ords a beautiful specimen of 



134 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

what the Grospel of Christ can accomplish for its ad- 
vocates, when it is out of the power of created good 
to render assistance. The Apostle had been favored 
with a remarkable elevation to the third heavens. 
He had seen the vision of the Almighty, and heard 
unspeakable words ; such as were not lawful for man 
to utter. 

But this was intended rather to produce humility 
than exultation. The advantages are on the side of 
faith. '' Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet 
have believed.^^ The apprehensions of faith maybe 
less vivid than those of the senses, yet its influence is 
more stringent, elevating us above the cares of life, and 
making us, in view of the termination of our course, 
superior to death, in its most appalling form. It 
were well for us occasionally to try and realize the 
scene ; to think 'of ourselves as having readied the 
end of our journey — about to take our final leave of 
the world and its busy cares. What, in such a case, 
would be our feelings, and what the reflections that 
would press upon our minds with the greatest solem- 
nity ? We may possibly die suddenly, so that we 
shall have no time to think, till we think in eternity. 
We may drop into the unseen world in a moment, 
as many others have done, and have no consciousness 



INTREPID FAITH. 135 

of the event, till the spirit finds itself in the presence 
of God. The last sickness may come upon us in a 
form that will agonize the body with pain, and unfit 
us for thought. It may extinguish the light of reas- 
on, and cloud the mind with wild delirium. But on 
the supposition that we shall be notified of our ap- 
proaching departure, by the usual premonitory symp- 
toms, and that the closing scene will find us in the 
full possession of our faculties, capable of reflecting 
on the past, and anticipating the future ; what will 
probably be our judgment of our present course of 
life, and what our thoughts as we near the invisible 
world, and feel that we are standing on the verge of 
a shoreless eternity. We cannot, indeed, know all 
that we shall feel and think in that solemn hour of 
reflection.; but it is certain we shall have thoughts 
and feelings very different from what we have now. 
Our views on many subjects will.be w^holly changed ; 
and they will stand out with a vividness of impres- 
sion, of which we can at present form but a faint con- 
ception. We know this from the very nature of the 
case — from the testimony of persons from wliom we 
have been sundered, and from the authentic accounts 
of those whose last moments have been made known 
to us. Lord Chesterfield, though a sceptic, and de- 



136 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

voted to a life of pleasure^ said, near the close of his 
days, '' I have recently read Solomon with a kind of 
sympathetic feeling. I have been as wicked and 
vain, though not as wise as he ; but now I am old 
enough to feel the truth of his reflection, ' All is 
vanity and vexation of spirit/ '' Voltaire, the French 
atheist, after having spent a long life in blasphemy 
and opposition to the Saviour, pronounced the 
world to be full of wretches, and himself the most 
wretched of them all. To his physician he said, 
^' I will give you half of what I am worth, if you 
will give me six months of life.'' Paine died intoxi- 
cated ; and Hobbes confessed that he was taking a 
leap in the dark. Sir John Mason said, on his death 
bed, ^^I have lived to see five princes, and have been 
privy counsellor to four of them : I have seen the 
most important things in foreign parts, and have 
been present at most state transactions for thirty 
years together ; and I have learned, after so many 
years experience, that seriousness is the greatest wis- 
dom, and a good conscience the best estate. Were I 
to live again I would change the whole of my life in 
the palace for an hour's enjoyment of God in His 
Church.'' Said the excellent Payson, as he grappled 
with the last enemy, " The battle is fought ! the 



INTREPID FAITH. 137 

battle is fought^ and the victory is won forever." 
The last words of Bishop Jewel were those of the 
closino: sentence of our beautiful Te Deum : ^^0 
Lord, in Thee have I trusted, let me never be con- 
founded/' Archbishop Usher died with the publi- 
can's prayer on his lips. And St. Paul, broke forth 
in those thrilling and inspiriting accents : ^^ I am 
now ready to be offered, and the time of my depart- 
ure is at hand/' &c., The phrase, ^^ ready to be of- 
fered,'' may be strictly and literally rendered, I am 
being poured out ; alluding, probably, to the custom, 
that when victims were slain, oil was poured on them 
by the priest, as a part of the sacrificial offering. 
The expression is elsewhere employed by David, who, 
speaking of himself on the brink of the grave, says, 
^^ I am poured out like water." And the rapt proph- 
et, foretelling the sufferings of Jesus, makes use of 
the emphatic words : ^^ He poured out His soul unto 
death." Practically, tbe construction of the Apos- 
tle's language is this : I am now on the confines of 
eternity. I hear at the same moment the voices of 
the world that retires, and of the world that rushes 
in — the noises of time that are dying on the ear, and 
the notes of eternity that chime in the distance. I 
am between the two twilights; the twilight that 



138 TWILIGHT AND DAWXIXG. 

ends in night, and the twilight that opens in evei 
brightening day. I am in the vallej^, where the wa- 
ters of earth meet and are absorbed^ and from which 
the broad river of heaven starts on its majestic course. 
I am at anchor between the two oceans : the an- 
chorage ground has been stormy and tempestuous ; 
now the tide swells and the wind is fair, and a voice 
speaks to me from beyond the great white sea, ^^ Come 
hither/' Such was the composure of this eminent 
saint, in antici]3ation of the future. Rich in the con- 
fidence of the Gospel, he could look upon the instru- 
ments and apparatus of torture and martyrdom, and 
exclaim, ^^ None of these things move me, neither 
count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might 
finish my course with joy/' 

The retrospect of our subject embraces the whole 
area of the Christian life : '' I have fought a good 
fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the 
faith/' 

Fighting is indicative of warfare. The Greek word 
means agony. It is the same as is used by the Evan- 
gelist to describe the agony and bloody sweat of our 
Lord in the Garden of Gethsemane. It is also re- 
lated to the verb strive : ^^ strive, agonize to enter 
in at the strait gate.'' '' Every man that striveth 



INTREPID FAITH. 139 

for the mastery, (literally, that agonizes for the 
mastery) is temperate in all things." Now what 
are we to understand by this expression, but that 
the way to heaven is not on a bed of down, but over 
a battle-field. On every inch of it there are fight- 
ings without or fears within ; prejudices to over- 
come, and passions to subdue ; temptations to resist, 
and difficulties to conquer. These, and innumerable 
assailants, crowd upon us like fierce foes, to inter- 
cept or divert our upward and steady ascent. ^'We 
wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against prin- 
cipalities and powers ; against the rulers of the dark- 
ness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in 
high places.'^ There is a vigorous conflict to be main- 
tained between our spirits and evil spirits — the spir- 
it and mind of Christ, and the spirit of worldliness. 
The only way by which these adversaries can be over- 
come is faith in the blood of the cross. Hence '^ the 
weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty 
through God to the pulling down of strong holds.'' 
We foil the enemy with the artillery consecrated by 
the fierce contests of Jesus. We tread in His sa- 
cred footprints. We fight in His glorious presence. 
We are sustained by His glorious promises, and an- 
imated by His glorious strength. The struggle is a 



140 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

good one^ being the fight of faith^ which enables us 
to lay hold on eternal life. 

The Christian life is a race. It is likened to a 
course. '^ I have finished my course/' adds the 
Apostle. To every individual God assigns his pecul- 
iar course, and his piety and happiness depend not 
so much on the course itself^ as on the mode of ful- 
filling it — not on the sphere^ but on his glorifying 
GrOD in it. If an angel were sent to live on this 
earth, he would not be likely to concern himself with 
the question whether he was to be seated on a throne 
of diamond, or to toil in the fields. His chief solici- 
tude would be to occupy the place specifically in- 
tended for him. And if we would be useful and hap- 
py, we must cultivate the temper of that angel. We 
must remember that every age, calling and condition, 
has its peculiar trials and duties ; and that the tri- 
als and duties we meet with are those which are as- 
signed us — those which have been accurately adjust- 
ed, so as to constitute our probation, and become the 
ordeals of our faith and patience. This affliction com- 
eth not forth of the dust, neither doth this trouble 
spring out of the ground. They are the paternal 
chastisements of our heavenly Father, to unite us the 
more closely to Himself. Losses and sad reverses are 



INTREPID FAITH. 141 

sent to try our confidence and resignation, and fix 
our treacherous hearts on things above. The sphere 
of action in which we move, however humble or ar- 
duous, is the sphere that we are to fill to the honor of 
Christ, and the advancement of His cause. It is 
recorded of John the Baptist that he fulfilled his 
course. St. Paul said "I have finished my course.' 
Widely diff'erent were the courses of these remarka- 
ble men ; yet each one completed it, and this consti- 
tuted his piety. The same providential arrangement 
applies to all without distinction. Our circumstan- 
ces may be diversified, but our happiness and salva- 
tion depend on our serving God ; not in another sit- 
uation, but in the condition in which He has placed 
us. It has pleased God to give to each one of us a 
course, and He has alloted a certain definite time in 
which to finish it. The number of our months is 
with Him. He has appointed our bounds that we 
cannot pass.. We must all die, and be as water spilt 
on the ground, which cannot be gathered up. Our 
lives roll on like rivers. We may be renowned or ol)- 
scure, benefactors or scourges of our race. Our ex- 
istence may be calm and bright, or dark and turbu- 
lent ; but it soon ceases, and we are confounded in 
the tomb. We are like streams — the tranquil and 



142 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

impeteuous, those which desolate and those which the 
bless the earth — all traversing spaces accurately pre- 
scribed, and then mingling their waters, and losing 
their names and distinctions in the ocean. The cur- 
rent upon which we have launched, rolls noiselessly 
along. Cheerfully and quietly we are borne on its 
bosom towards the ocean's brink. At the first our 
boat glides pleasantly down the channel, through the 
playful murmurings of brooks, and the windings of 
grassy borders. The trees shed their blossoms over 
our young heads. The flowers present their attrac- 
tion to our young hands. We are happy in hope 
and expectation. We grasp eagerly at the pleasures 
around us ; but we are hurried onward, and our 
hands are empty. The course of youth and man- 
hood is amid objects more bold and striking, and 
along a wilder and deeper flood. Towering clifis and 
rugged precipices frown upon each other, and we fan- 
cy them to be things of life, flying past us upon the 
pinions of an eagle. But we are the travellers, and 
the objects of our vision are stationary. The stream 
bears us on, whether we wish it or not, towards the 
opening gulf. The voyage may be hastened, but 
cannot be delayed. We may be shipwrecked, but 
cannot anchor. The roar of ocean is in our ears ; 



INTREPID FAITH. 143 

the land lessens from our sight ; the floods are lift- 
ed up around us ; the earth disappears from our 
view. We take our leave of its inhabitants ; and of 
our farther voyage there is no witness^ but the Infi- 
nite and Eternal. If He were to reveal to us the 
events of the future ; if He were to disclose to us 
the contents of the next few months ; the changes 
and alterations about to occur ; the vacancies to be 
occasioned in our circles; the graves ready to be open- 
ed, the youngest and the giddiest among us might 
stand aghast^ at finding themselves already touching 
the fatal limit. The aspirant for honor and the man 
of business might be seen pale and terrified at the 
message, '^ This year thou shalt die.'" But, my breth- 
ren, God has not told us what is registered in the 
book of His decrees, nor do we need such knowledge. 
We know that the longest human life is compressed 
within exceedingly narrow limits. Compared with 
the generations before the fiood, when men reckoned 
by centuries, it is a mere hand's breadth ; compared 
with the duration of inanimate objects — with those 
hills and valleys ; with those buildings close by ; 
the tomb-stones in yonder grave-yard, and what is it ? 
And suppose we go on, and try to comprehend the 
incomprehensible, and measure the infinite, and fath- 



144 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

om the fathomless, and compare our little shrivelled 
life with eternity — with the boundless abysses of the 
future : with myriads upon myriads of ages accumu- 
lating forever, and what is it but a speck, an imper- 
ceptible atom ? — grass cut down in a moment ; 
smoke, vapor, shadow, dream, nothing, less than 
nothing, vanity. 

Most things with which we are conversant on 
earth are much more permanent than man. Yet 
there is nothing of which we may not affirm It is 
temporal. It had a beginning, and it will have a 
close. It is finishing its course, passing away. The 
fashion of the world passeth away ; the fashion, the 
vain pageant, the procession surmounted by gay ban- 
ners, decked in brilliant hue, and marching to all the 
pomp of festive and martial music, blown from reed 
and shell and metal. It was yonder, and scarcely 
could w^e hear the fair notes of its coming. It is 
now before us in imposing array. It has passed, it 
has gone ; and the street is left silent and deserted 
again. It passeth away, is written upon everything. 
We look, we love, we desire, we possess ; but no 
matter how dear and cherished the object, we soon 
trace upon its fragile form the melancholy inscrip- 
tion, It passeth away. Our pleasures, our afflictions. 



INTREPID FAITH. 145 

our friends are passing away. Where are the com- 
panions of our childhood ? Where are the associates 
of our youth ? Where are our fathers ? Where 
are those who once inhabited the houses in which 
you dwell, and occupied the chambers in which you 
will sleep to-night ? They have gone to the bourne 
whence no traveller returns ; they have finished their 
course ; they have passed away. With the surviv- 
ors around us we are changing, consuming, vanishing 
as a cloud, passing away. This year is passing, the 
seasons are passing ; the prayers, the praises, the 
means of grace, the opportunities afforded us — all are 
fleeting, passing away, hastening to be gone. My 
brethren, children of an hour, have you any concep- 
tion of a life so brief and transient as ours ? The 
thought of our dying hour should accompany us 
everywhere ; and thither all our solicitudes should 
tend, with an impulse and energy unremitting. The 
constant care of our lives should be to keep our souls 
prepared with outstretched wings, plumed and ready 
for the skies : and then, when danger threatens, and 
disease assails, and death approaches, our treasures 
and affinities will be in heaven, and we shall be able to 
say with the Apostle, ^' I have finished my course.'' 
The Christian life is a stewardship. ^' I have 



146 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

tept the faith." The faith once delivered to the 
saints is entrusted to our keeping. It is the highest 
and holiest trust that man can hold. There is no 
responsibility greater^ and none more liable to abuse. 
Hence, said the Apostle^ '^It is required in stewards 
that a man be found faithful.'' 

The delusion is a very common one^ that it is a 
matter of little importance what a man believes, so 
long as he is sincere. The sincerity with which we 
do a thing, though it may command us respect for 
our conscientiousness, does not prove it to be right. 
And should it happen that we are wrong, on a point 
of such vital importance as the faith of the Gospel, 
the result will prove but too sadly disastrous. Saul 
of Tarsus was sincere, when he persecuted the Chris- 
tians to death. The Hindoo mother is sincere, when 
she throws her babe into the Ganges to be devoured 
by sharks. The China woman is sincere, when she 
leaves her infant to perish in the streets of Pekin. 
But are they right in so doing ? Will God accept 
any other sacrifice than the sacrifice of faith in the 
blood of the cross ? Can we enter heaven by any 
other road than that which infinite mercy has an- 
nounced ? '^ Stand ye in the ways and see, and ask 
for the old paths where is the good way, and walk 



INTREPID FAITH. 147 

therein/' The sceptic would snatch the faith from 
us. Satan would debase it ; the world would tread 
it down, and the Komanist would add to it, and in- 
corporate it with the traditions of men. But we 
must hold it fast, and not allow it to be buried up, 
nor diluted, nor perverted, nor kept back. We 
must contend for the ancient faith, with the weap- 
ons of St. Paul and of Christ. And then what mat- 
ters it whose hand shall open to our feet the gate of 
life. What matter where the couch be spread in 
which we struggle out of flesh ? And what difference 
whether sickness or the sword be the talisman with 
which we enter into rest. Welcome, for Christ, the 
toil, the care, the want, the scorn which companion- 
ship with Him may bring. The heavier be our por- 
tion of His cross, the brighter shall be our share of 
His crown. 

The crown of righteousness laid up for the Apos- 
tle absorbed his holiest feeling. The vision became 
brighter, the nearer he approached it. This was the 
one grand object to which his expectant eye was con- 
stantly directed. Comparatively he could see nothing 
else. Ease might offer him indulgence, Wealth might 
display her bribes, Pleasure might exhibit her charms, 
but they all ceased to attract, on account of the in- 



148 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

tenser glory of the regalia of heaven. Suspended in 
the Saviour's hands, he saw crowns of righteousness 
to be disposed of as the prize of holy perseverance. 
These crowns were not secured by treason, nor seized 
by stratagem, nor achieved by the sword ; but pur- 
chased by the righteousness, and prepared by the 
hands of Jesus. There is no peradventure, but an 
absolute certainty of their bestowment, when the Son 
of Man shall come in His glory, and all His holy an- 
gels with Him. At that day, when the last fire shall 
consume the round world, and all nations shall stand 
before the judgment seat of Christ, the King shall 
say to them on His right hand, ^^ Come, ye blessed 
of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you 
from the foundation of the world'' — receive the 
crown of righteousness, accept it at my hands, wear 
it in my kingdom : every gem in it reflects my im- 
age, and redounds to my glory. 

There is no mono|)oly of this crown, by any one in- 
dividual. It is for each and for all who shall be count- 
ed worthy to attain it. There is a catholicity in the 
language of the Apostle, w^hich we cannot but ad- 
mire : ''Not to me only, but unto all them that love 
His appearing." The race is not St. Paul against 
St. Peter, and Paul and Peter against us, but all of 



INTREPID FAITH. 149 

US together against the woiid^ so that all that will 
may receive it. One claims nothing for himself to 
the exclusion of another ; the first and the last enjoy 
it on the same terms. ^' Know ye not that they 
which run in a race, run all, but one receiveth the 
prize ; so run that ye may obtain. Now they do it 
that they may obtain a corruptible crown, but we an 
incorruptible.'' The crowns of earth, at the best, are 
corruptible — corruptible in themselves, and corrupt- 
ing in the influence which they exert. There is 
nothing iu this world but is tainted by corruption. 
The ark on which the glory once shone has mould- 
ered to dust. The overshadowing cherubim that 
covered the mercy seat are destroyed ; the prolific 
rod of Aaron that budded is no more. The sublime 
temple of Jerusalem is demolished. The things of 
righteousness alone remain. They are pure and per- 
fect, reserved in heaven, where neither moth nor rust 
can corrupt. They are a part of the glory to be re- 
vealed — the property to which we are heirs. The 
crown of life is hidden now from mortal eyes, but 
faith sees it — sees it among harps, and palms, and 
thrones, rich and glorious. Let your eye rest stead- 
ily on it ; reach after it, try to possess it, tax every 
faculty, stretch every nerve, and press with vigor on. 



150 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

There are few among my readers but have some 
deposit in heaven. The stroke of bereavement may 
recently have smitten you^ and bitter may be the 
grief that you feel, in the vivid recollection of the 
grave. It was your familiar friend, with whom you 
took sweet counsel, that has been called away. You 
sat by the dying pillow, you grasped the dying hand; 
you watched the flickering of life till it became ex- 
tinct ; you closed the glassy eye ; you followed the 
mortal remains to their last earthly resting-place, 
and returned to your habitation to realize the vacan- 
cy, and mourn over the loss you were called to sus- 
tain. Yet remembering that the immortal spirit 
was disembodied before the throne, you exclaimed, 
'' The Lord liveth : the Lord gave, and the Lord 
hath takea away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." 
It is at rest, now, with the multitude whom no man 
can number. Then would you call the blest one 
back ? No, brethren, let it staj^, and be it ours to 
follow. And while we sorrow not as those who have 
no hope, let us be as though w^e heard them whisper- 
ing down to us, amid the elevations of their triumph, 
" Be ye not slothful, but followers of them who, 
through faith and patience, inherit the promises/' 



CHAPTER X. 

THE SWELLING OF JOKDAK 

How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan ? — Jeremiah. 

In the summer months of Palestine, when the 
earth laughs with plenty, in all the garniture of life 
and beauty, the Jordan frolics along its channels, and 
eddies in its pebbly pools ; but when swollen with the 
mountain torrents, it becomes impatient of restraint, 
and dashes its angry surges over the land. The time 
of barley harvest is one of the seasons when it inun- 
dates the region that skirts its borders. The sacred 
historian informs us that Jordan overfloweth all its 
banks, all the time of harvest. 

The river is fringed with two banks, one of which 
may be overflowed while the other is above the 
stream. The innermost bank is thickly covered with 
bushes and trees, among which are the tamerisk, the 
willow and the oleander ; so that no water can be 
seen till one has made his way through them. In this 
entangled thicket, convenient to the cooling stream, 



152 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

and remote from the habitations of men, several 
kinds of wild beasts were accustomed to repose until 
driven from their retreat by the swelling flood. This 
incident gave rise to that beautiful allusion of the 
prophet, ^^ He shall come up like a lion from the 
swelling of Jordan, against the habitation of the 
strong/' 

The figure is highly poetical. The mind can 
scarcely conceive of a more terrible image than a lion 
aroused from his lair by the roar of the river, and 
chafed and irritated by its repeated and successive 
encroachments upon his chosen haunts, till forced to 
quit his last retreat, he ascends the high ground and 
the open country, and turns the fierceness of his rage 
against the innocent villagers. A destroyer equally 
fierce, and cruel, and irresistible, the devoted Edom- 
ites were to find in Nebuchadnezzar and his army. 

It was on the margin of this flood that John the 
Baptist stood, when pointing to the stones and peb- 
bles that were before him, he said, ^^ God is able of 
these stones to raise up children unto Abraham/' 
and then turning to the trees, he added, " Every tree 
which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down 
and ,cast into the fire.'' Here he found a suitable 
spot for obtaining the attention of visitors from dif- 



THE SWELLING OF JORDA^N. 153 

ferent districts on either side of the river. Hither 
the inhabitants of Jerusalem resorted to hear his tes- 
timony, and to receive the holy rite of baptism which 
he was appointed to administer. And here in the 
midst of an attentive auditory, he exclaimed, " Be- 
hold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of 
the world.'' 

The allusions to the overflowing of the Jordan 
ought deeply to impress our minds with its symbolic- 
al import, and dispose us to receive the instruction 
which it is intended to afford. The imagery emphat- 
ically denotes the dark river of death. This is the 
lesson which it solemnly inculcates, requiring us to 
pause in the hey-day of life, and to gird up the loins 
of our minds in anticipation of crossing it. The 
event may ;iot be distant, and we should be prepared 
to meet it with Christian fortitude and courage. 

What should we think of a mariner, who, being 
apprised of a coming tempest, should make no prep- 
aration for its approach ; and, though a haven was 
in view, should still persist in holding on his course, 
till awakened to a sense of his danger by the conflict 
of the elements, he seeks a place of safety in vain ? 
But we regard as more culpable the conduct of that 
individual who has had frequent intimations of his 



154 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

proximity to the banks of the Jordan^ and yet trifles 
away the few remaining moments of his existence, 
heedless of his aeparture^ till the roar and commotion 
of the waves bm'st suddenly upon him. Yet there 
are multitudes of our fellow-men who are compelled 
to acknowledge that they cannot be far from the flood 
which is to take them off. They are conscious that 
occasionally, the sound of its waters^ and the spray 
the dark river rolls somewhere near them. They 
hear^ of the billows is borne by the breeze beside 
them ; but they never ask the important question, 
How shall I do in the swelling of Jordan ? 

There are seasons occasionally occurring, when its 
overflowings engulf our fellow-beings as with a 
sweeping scourge. We stand upon the river's brink, 
and gaze on the rolling flood, and inquire, ^' Our fath- 
ers, where are they ? and the prophets, do they live 
forever ?'' The Lord has sent them to Jordan, and 
the wave has borne them across to the fartli^r shore. 
Our hearts bleed at the breaches it has made in the 
objects of our affections. " Lover and friend it has 
put far from us, and our acquaintance into darkness." 
It has snatched away the infant of feeble frame — 
the youth in the spring-time of life ; the strong man 
glorying in his strength, and the aged and infirm. 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 155 

No matter how life may put forth its rainbow hues, 
and spread its wings as if boundless space were be- 
fore it, the floods may at any moment extinguish the 
vital spark; and the place that now knows us know 
us no more forever. If accident should not at once 
level with the dust, nor disease encoil in its serpent 
folds, decay, in its own time, will work the wreck of 
all, effacing the lustre from the eye, and desire from 
the soul ; and man, shrivelled and spiritless, " goeth 
to his long home and the mourners go about the 
streets.'' 

The course of life is ever parallel — side by side 
with death. Its termination is not a precipice at a 
distance, toward which we are gradually moving, and 
over which we must bye and bye plunge, but a river 
on the margin of which we are all the while walking, 
and into which the most trivial circumstance may 
cause us to fall. We are ever on the verge of life ; 
close upon the confines of eternity, and within a sin- 
gle step of heaven or hell. There is but a step be- 
tween us and death. 

The precarious tenure of our earthly existence is 
universally acknowledged, though but seldom felt. 
'' All men think all men mortal but themselves." 
Yet evidence the most convincing assures us that our 



156 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

sun may go down while it is day. For what is our 
life ? It is like the grass which in the morning 
groweth up, and in the evening it is cut down and 
withered ; like the hour upon which we have scarce- 
ly entered ere we hear the knell of its departure ; 
like a shell cast up by the ocean of eternity, and 
washed away by the returning tide ; like a vapor 
that appeareth for a little while, and then vanisheth 
away ; like a shadow that declineth ; like a weaver's 
shuttle ; like a swift ship, nothing before God, and 
altogether vanity. Such a poor, contracted, hand- 
breadth of a life has already been extended through a 
longer period than to many who were our cotempora- 
ries. This makes it the more probable that the event 
of our departure is near at hand. For if something 
we expect to find be in one of a hundred places, and 
we discover it not in twenty, or thirty, the probabili- 
ty is certainly greater that we shall find it in the 
next, than in any preceding one, because the number 
of those in which it is to be found is so much re- 
duced. If some looked-for event will assuredly take 
place in a hundred days, and one day after another 
passes and it does not occur, there is a strong presump- 
tive proof that the next will be the one. Now if we 
apply this calculation to that portion of human life 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 157 

which has fled, we shall the more readily perceive 
that the extraordinary event, which is in the num- 
ber of our days, must of necessity soon happen, and 
that to-morrow or the day following may possibly be 
the time. All the days between us and the great 
day are being quietly removed. And, as in a journey, 
the hill once before the traveller is soon behind him, 
and the villages between him and the metropolis are 
taken from anticipation, and put in retrospection ;* 
so rapidly and certainly are we hastening to the day 
of doom. 

The possessions of fortune are alike fickle and un- 
certain ; hanging on a thousand contingencies ; ever 
ready to take to themselves wings and fly away. 
The venerable patriarch Job awoke in the morning, 
one of the richest patricians in the east, in flocks and 
herds, in houses and lands, in silver and gold ; and 
in the evening he sat down amid the ashes of utter 
desolation, exclaiming, " The Loud gave, and the 
Lord hath taken away : blessed be the name of the 
Lord.'' On every hand we are met with the assurance, 
that the felicity of man does not consist in the abun- 
dance of the things which he possesseth. From guilt 
or misfortune we witness continual reverses. No 
man can tell what a day may bring forth ; and he 



158 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

must be presumptous indeed who says, ^^ My moua- 
tain stands strong, I shall never be moved/' Could 
we admit that fortune were secure, and that all 
things continue as they were, and continue to pro- 
gress, what then ? What avails the splendor of the 
mansion, when the eye is dim, or the magnificence 
of the domain, when the heart is cold ; or the parch- 
ment that tells of hundreds and of thousands, when 
the last agony has clenched the hand, and compressed 
the lip ? The fleeting things of earth were never in- 
tended as a heritage for the soul ; and that they 
should ever be regarded as such, is proof of dire in- 
fatuation and egregious folly. At the best they are 
only things which must soon be no more ; and then 
they will be found to have been no better than a tale 
that is told — a midsummer night's dream, the re-per- 
cussion of an echo, the shadow of a shade. If there 
are valued possessions which seem to have an imper- 
ishable worth, in being associated with the memory of 
departed friends, they are as despicable to them as the 
leaves of a past autumn are to a tree now filled with 
blossoms. The mention of the dearest estate would 
awaken no more emotion than the rehearsal to a 
grown person of that which had happened to a block- 
house, or card figure, which amused his childhood. 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 159 

Whether^ we consider man in the sinciple element of 
his being, or in all the garniture of his godliness, as 
possessed of fortune, honor or distinction, '^ all flesh 
is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flow- 
er of the field/' 

" We wither from our youth, we gasp away, 

Sick, sick ; unfound the boon, unslaked the thirst, 
Though to the last, on verge of our decay, 

Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first : 
But all too late ; for all are meteors with a different name, 
And death the sable smoke, where vanishes the flame." 

The swelling of Jordon symbolizes the passage 
from time into eternity. This is the crisis for which 
all other acts should prepare us. We should ever 
think of it with feelings of more than ordinary so- 
lemnity. We look upon voyagers to another coun- 
try as embarking in a hazardous enterprise, if they 
have not prepared for the voyage, and possessed 
themselves of the requisite information of the desti- 
ny to which they are bound. But persons who have 
launched their frail bark upon the current that is to 
convey them into another state of existence, have 
taken their leave of the world to which they were at- 
ttiched by threads of endearment and association, 
and are in a condition that demands the tenderest 
solicitude that human hearts can offer. Destitute uf 



160 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

an interest in the merits of our adorable Eedeemer, 
the transition is the most terrible of all terrible 
things. Better have had no glow of affection, no re- 
finement of taste, no tenderness of sympathy, than 
not to consecrate it to the Saviour's praise. Better 
never to have been born into the world, than to pass 
out of it an alien from Christ, who died to redeem 
it. Shall we venture to confront the king of terrors 
with all our sins upon oux head ; with the weapons 
of rebellion in our hands ; with the supremacy of 
Satan in our hearts ? Dare we plung into eternity, 
and stand before a holy, righteous God, without rec- 
onciliation, without pardon, without the wedding 
garment, without the presence of Jesus ? Can we 
tolerate the thought of being disembodied in the 
world of spirits ; agitated, affrighted, trembling ; our 
associates lost, condemned spirits like our own ; ap- 
pearing before the Infinite Justice without a plea, 
without an argument, conscious- smitten and silent ? 
Can we brave the trial before the judgment seat of 
Christ ; the omniscient scrutiny, the dread sentence, 
the banishment, the exile from heaven into a world 
of tribulation and anguish, indignation and despair ; 
where all the remembrances of the past, and all the 
reflections of the present, and all the anticipations of 



THE SWELLING OF JOKDAN. 161 

the future combine to make one element of agony and 
woe ? We deprecate the callous indifference that 
would trifle with such solemn scenes, and rushing to 
the cross for refuge, pray, " Spare us, good Lord, 
spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed ; enter 
not into judgment with thy servants, who are vile 
earth, and miserable sinners/' ^^0 spare us, that 
we may recover strength before we go hence, and be 
no more." 

When, and where, our exit from earth will trans- 
pire, our heavenly Father, for wise reasons, keeps us 
in ignorance. If the period were known to be dis- 
tant, it would furnish a strong temptation to neglect 
all preparation for eternity, and induce us to become 
the creatures of mere appetite and passion. And if 
it were felt to be near, the impression would so pow- 
erfully operate on the mind as to unfit us for the 
proper discharge of the duties of life. The moral 
purposes of our being are best promoted, by leaving 
the number of our months with Him who has de- 
termined the bounds of our habitation, and who 
ordereth all things after the counsel of His own will. 
He may commission our arrest while yet the bloom 
of health sparkles on the countenance, and the young 
blood flows in our veins. The spoiler may con- 



162 TWILIGHT AND DAWXIXG. 

front US on the spot where we intend to discharge 
some common dutv, to execute some daily task, oi 
to take some excursion of pleasure. The gate of 
eternil y may open upon us with noiseless hinges in the 
merchant's office, on the traveller's pathway, and in 
the midnight hour, when deep sleep falleth upon man. 
The Lord may require us to lay down cur earthly 
tabernacle^ and commit ourselves to the cold abyss, 
at a time and place the least suspected. 

The swelling of Jordan is suggestive of storm and 
tempest. The mind of the poet was pathetically im- 
pressed with this sentiment, when he sang, ^^ On 
Jordan's stormy banks I stand." The storm-waves 
dash upon the shore. Deej) calls unto deep : the 
waves and the billows roll over us, and the sorrows 
of death compass us about. We have seen the ago- 
ny of the dying man buffetting the w^ave, and vain- 
ly endeavoring to escape the whirlpool. We have 
seen him in his conflict with the current, look im- 
ploringly for succor and assistance, and then disap- 
pear in the gusts of the gale. How it subsequently 
fared with him we could not tell. Dense mists inter- 
cepted the vision, and hid all beyond. We have seen 
others, yea the brightest ornaments of the Christian 
character, who, through fear of death, vrere all theii 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 163 

life-time subject to bondage, grow pale and death-like 
at the contemplation. Their social nature recoiled 
from the prospect as repulsive and chilling ; and 
though assured that all was bright and glowing be- 
yond, and that shining ones were waiting to receive 
them, they stood ^* lingering, shivering on the brink, 
and feared to launch away/* But when the word of 
summons came, grace came with it. A hallowed in- 
fluence spread itself over tke mind. The bitterness 
of death was not felt. Its cold damps did not terri- 
fy. The swelling flood received them to its bosom, 
and they were landed on Canaan^s shore. Then 
we thought of our own departure, and were ready to 
say, come Lord Jesus, come quickly. Let Thy sup- 
porting rod and stafl" comfort me. Calm the troub- 
led waters for my transit, or give me peace in the 
storm. Assist me to fight my last conflict in a man- 
ner worthy of the company and scenes into which I 
am to pass. 

" When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
Bid my anxious fears subside ; 
Death of death, and hell's destruction, 
Land me safe on Canaan's side." 

The banks of the Jordan of death are rugged at 
some points ; and smooth at others, stormy here, and 



164 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

placid there^ and occasionally lined with, verdure and 
wild flowers that diffuse a sweety decaying smell, be- 
tokening the last earthly fragrance to regale us in 
this vale of tears. When the atmosphere is bright 
and transparent the river can be seen a long distance : 
then it is hidden among the hills, and presently it 
appears beyond them like a faint twilight, in a 
cloudy night. But such a view is exceptional, as it is 
generally a swollen and turbid stream, mantled with 
cold fogs that have a deadly effect. The strong men 
bow themselves, and the daughters of music are 
brought low. There are always some persons in the 
act of crossing it, and others sporting on the margin, 
as if wreckless of the plunge. We are familiar with 
events in which groups of persons have been cast in- 
to it by some dread disaster, both old and young, the 
gray headed sire of seventy and the youth of fifteen 
summers. They struggled hard to regain the coast 
from which they had been precipitated, but as no hu- 
man hand could save them, they speedily sank be- 
neath the gurgling wave. 

What ministers so essentially to our relief, is the 
appearance of an old man leaning on his staff. He 
has come a long journey to view the stream, and 
cares not how soon his pilgrimage is over. This 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 165 

river, he says, is what I have long looked for. i have 
travelled day after day ia expectation of it, and now 
mine eye seeth it. Many of my old friends have 
crossed this flood, and I am to cross it now. I love 
to think that I shall touch the water which bore 
them, with so much triumph, to the rest above. I 
trust in the promise of my precious Saviour to con- 
duct me, also, in safety. He has said, '^ When thou 
passest through the waters I will be with thee, and 
through the floods, they shall not overflow thee/' 
And now, with his loins girded, and his affections 
forestalling him, he stepped down to the water's edge, 
and looked thoughtfully upon its surface. The waves 
had by this time subsided. The setting sun threw 
his rays upon a breezeless tide. The evening was 
peaceful. The air was soft and agreeable ; and, ever 
and anon, sounds of the sweetest music fell on the 
ear from a distance. The opposite shore was discern- 
ible, lit up with a halo of glory, and thronged with 
countless happy beings of all kindred and tongues. 
The old man stood entranced. His countenance 
shone as if it had been the face of an angel. His 
silver locks hung loosely over his shoulders. Hi's 
grey eye, fixed intently upon the scene, drank in the 
beauty. And, as if eager to be gone, he bowed with 



166 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

submission and said^ ^' Lord lettest Thou now Thy 
servant depart in peace, according to Thy word : fro 
mine eyes have seen Thy salvation/' The prayer 
was scarcely offered, when the gentle flowing of the 
river met around him, and he was floated to the heav- 
enly rest. '^ Mark the perfectman, and behold the 
upright, for the end of that man is peace.'' 
. The testimonies of dying saints are of unspeaka- 
ble importance to our faith and hope. They are 
like the stones which Joshua pitched in Gilgal, after 
the children of Israel had gone through Jordan on 
dry ground. And when their children asked, ^^ What 
mean these testimonies ?'' they said, ^^ The Israel of 
God passed over this Jordan on dry ground." Hence, 
the good example of those who have departed this 
life in faith and fear are a vuluable legacy that we 
could not dispense with. Nor has the closing scene 
failed to yield the richest treasure of experience of 
any that we possess. From scarcely any other quar- 
ter have such instructive lessons been derived. Here ' 
the hopes of piety have triumphed over every fear ; 
faith in Jesus has shone forth with simplicity and 
splendor ; and every sympathy of our nature has 
been blended in the all-absorbing affection of love to 
the ever loving Eedeemek. The struggles of disso- 



THE SWELLING OF JORDON. 167 

lution have completed the operations of grace, and 
the casting away the garments of the flesh revealed 
the beauty of the soul passing into glory, adorned for 
the festival of heaven. Our hearts have throbbed 
with delight and wonder, when we have beheld per- 
sons, who, but a little while ago, were feeble and sin- 
ful like ourselves, rising and brightening into immor- 
tality. We have been awed and humbled at seeing 
those with whom we took sweet and familiar counsel 
in the ordinary concerns of life, under the mysteri- 
ous power of the invisible world, fitting them for a 
residence with God. We have felt confident, as we 
wiped the death-sweat from their foreheads, or mois- 
tened the quivering lip, that we were ministering in 
company with ministering angels, who were noiseless 
and viewless, hovering over the spot as a sacred 
scene — the verge of glory, the gate of heaven. 

Delightful thought to the Christian, burdened with 
trials and temptations, and losses and crosses, that they 
shall not always continue. The hour is coming when 
every snare shall be broken, and the Lord, w^ith His 
gentle hand, shall wipe out every tear from his eye, 
and transplant him to the blessedness of eternal day. 
His enemies — the fiercest among them — are doomed 
to be crushed. Looking them in the face he can ad- 



168 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

dress them, Your triumph is short, your downfall is 
certain, your rejoicing will only hasten my release. 
When I fall, I shall conquer ; when I lie stretched 
out at your feet, I shall be free ; when I am dead, 
then I shall be alive forevermore. I shall pass se- 
curely from all the rocks and eddies of this narrow 
sea into the light and ocean of eternity. This silver 
cord loosened, and my panting spirit, borne on the 
wing of song, will sweep its way upward into the 
beaming presence of its Lord and Saviour. Shall 
we call this death ? No ; it is life — the rejuvenes- 
cence of the soul renewing its youth, amid the glories 
and sublimities of the new creation. 

And who shall depict the immediateness of this 
joy ? There is not a computable point of time that 
forms the interim between the exit and the rest. 
There is not the space of a sand-fall — hardly the 
twinkling of an eye. Pillowed upon that bed of lan- 
guishment lies my friend, hastening to depart. The 
icy hand of death is upon him. The change has well 
nigh come. Another struggle and he will be in the 
possession of awaiting splendors. I bend over his 
wasted, pallid frame; I look up, and there is ascend- 
ing above me an angel's form. I stoop to catch his 
feeble, gasping whisper; I listen, and there floats 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 169 

around me a seraph's song. I take his dying hand, 
tremulous and cold, and, lo ! it is waving to me from 
yonder skies. I wipe his deep and furrowed brow ; 
and now it is enwreathed with a garland of victory. 
I slake his parched and bloodless lip ; and now it is 
drinking at the overflowing fountain, by the throne 
of God. The eTordan is crossed, the storm is over, 
every foe is vanquished ; the last enemy is destroyed. 
The field is clear. The troubled waters have disap- 
peared. The darksome shadow of night is gone. Sin 
and imperfection are dropped. The spirit is vital for- 
ever, sailing, bathing, buoyant in the bliss of life — 
life in the highest style of perfection — eternal life. 

To that home of the ransomed the Jordan is inces- 
santly transmitting the loved ones of earth; thus 
causing our fond circles gradually to vanish from our 
sight, like a dissolving view, and to develop them- 
selves in the skies, an everlasting scene. Whatever 
is pure and lovely, and congenial with the atmosphere 
of heaven, is being collected into its capacious bosom, 
to adorn the eternal. city, whose builder and maker is 
God. The friends nearest and dearest to our hearts, 
with whom we have walked to the house of God in 
company, are there in joy and felicity, clothed in 
redemption robes^ and more than conquerors through 



170 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Him that loved them. Could we catch a glimpse of 
their glory^ and hear a note of their songs ; could 
we see the better country, imaging forth scenes of 
magnificence and beauty ; could we roll away some 
portion of the cloud that rests on the expanse ; could 
some flash of lightning disclose to us the open 
heavens, 

*'Not Jordan's streams, nor death's cold flood, 
Should frig'ht us from the shore." 

The theme admits of a close, candid, personal ap- 
plication, which must be met with frankness. The 
Omnipotent disposer of events has appointed unto 
all men once to die ; and it is but wise and proper 
that we should put the question" individually to our 
conscience. How shall I do in the swelling of Jordan? 
We are prone to look upon others as the victims of 
disease and death, without properly reflecting that 
we are alike compounded of the same material, and 
ought vigorously to prepare for scenes through which 
we must ultimately pass. Yet, despite of every ma- 
noeuvre to ward off* the reflection, as irksome and dis- 
agreeable, the sequel, after all, is this : I must die. 
Just as certain as I am now alive I must die. I 
must go into eternity ; I must plunge into the 
unknown futurity. My naked spirit, divested of all 



THE SWELLING OF JORDAN. 171 

that is adventitious, must stand before the throne of 
the Eternal. Friends may accompany me to the mar- 
gin of death's river, and sympathize, and minister to 
my relief; but they can go with me no farther. 
They must leave me there. I must wade through it 
alone. I must personally sustain the conflict, and 
endure the trial. If I perceive how this conflict is 
sustained by those who have made Christ their con- 
fidence, and the promises of Christ the objects of 
their hope and rejoicing ; if I see how this raises 
above the fear of death — draws aside the vail of im- 
mortality, and affords the dying Christian a* glimpse 
of the glory to be revealed, this is just the consola- 
tion that I need. And if it be so important theUy 
ought I to neglect it now ? Ought the lapse of a few 
years, at most, to make any difference in the rational 
estimate of the importance of such a boon.?^ If I 
were required at this moment to surrender my account, 
I should deeply feel the value of it ; and it certainly 
can never be less valuable because a little more time 
is allowed me to glorify God, who alone can preserve 
me in that crisis. The soul, at the instant of death, 
passes into other abodes; breathes at once the 
atmosphere of an unseen world ; mingles with the 
untold realities of eternity, and, in the twinkling of 



172 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

an eye, stands in the presence of Jehovah, while, 
before its vision are lifted the awful forms of His 
scrutiny, and the final retribution. It is then num- 
bered among the spirits of the just made perfect, or 
among other spirits, for whom the door of happiness 
and mercy never opens. Act, we beseech you, under 
the commanding conviction that the redemption of 
the soul is precious. Entrust it to the Saviour's 
keeping ; wash it in the Eedeemer's blood, and let 
no period of your history testify that you have neg- 
lected to give to it an exclusive supremacy. Live unto 
the Lord, and let Christ be glorified in your person, 
whether by life or by death. 



^HE <^LORIOU^ pAWNINQ. 



DAWNING. 



CHAPTER I. 

HEAVEN OPEi^ED. 
After this I looked, and behold a door was opened in Heaven. 



There is something very beautiful in the Eevela- 
tions of St. John. They are an inspired portrait of 
the Son of God. They are the Epiphany of Jesus. 
They are fuU of description of His personal glory — 
an apocalypse so brilliant, that the sight of the Jew 
was dazzled by its distant splendor. They begin 
with the advent of the Saviottr, and end with the 
same. That sublime and precious hope was in the 
eye of the holy seer, when he sat down to receive and 
record those bright visions ; and the same hope still 
animated him when, at the close of the revelation, 
he knelt before the throne and cried, ^^ Come, Lord 
Jesus, come quickly.'' The distinction between the 
revelation of Christ in the Apocalypse and the rev- 
alation of Christ in the Gospels is simply this : in 



4 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

the Gospels He is represented as Christ the sufferer ; 
in the Apocalj^pse He is depicted as Christ the con- 
queror. The Gospel details His bloody sweat, His 
agony, His cross and passion. The Apocalypse de- 
scribes His throne, His many crowns, and prostrate 
saints adoring Him. The Gospel shows us the sacri- 
ficing priest, the altar and the atoning victim ; the 
Apocalypse discovers to us the royalties of the King 
of kings, and the Lord of lords. Descriptions of the 
heaven in which He resides, and to which, finally. 
His worshipping people shall be exalted, are common 
to the one and the other : but in this last and inter- 
esting book, which closes the sacred canon, they are 
brought down to our understandings through a spe- 
cies of imagery that we find not elsewhere. 

The beloved disciple, at the time he was favored 
with these sublime visions, was banished to the Isle 
of Patmos for the word of God, and for the testimo- 
ny of Jesus. While there, sitting in sackcloth, he 
looked, and, behold, a door was opened in heaven. 
He saw through it the interior glory of the upper 
world. He caught a glimpse of the most splendid 
panorama — the dawning scenes of the life to come. 
He beheld, at one view, the embodiment of all that 
is precious and hallowed in hope — of all that is ele- 



HEAVEN OPENED. 

vating in nature — of all that is attractive in desire — 
of all that is cheering and sustaining in the struggles 
and adversities of life, and of all that can yield con- 
solation to the heart, when the shadows of death are 
resting upon the eyelids. Left to our own impulses 
we would almost prefer to be only reminded of that 
place, and pointed to it as something about which 
there can be no dissonance of opinion, and no argu- 
mentative debate, than even to animadvert upon the 
description which is here given. Our native prompt- 
ings on this subject would be, to take the truth of 
our impressions and anticipations for granted, and to 
rest in them composed and happy ; free from the 
spirit of doubt, and free from inquiry. Anxiously, 
indeed, may we ask. Is there not scope enough for 
restless inquisitions in the land and in the sea— in 
the air and in the bowels of the earth ? Is there not 
field sufficient in the clusters of the everlasting stars — 
in the laws of matter and of mind — in the facts of his- 
tory, the progress of arts, the policy of State and the 
structure of institutions ? Is there no temple so holy 
and so utterly removed from the precincts of earthly 
contamination, but the busy sound of inquirer's foot- 
fall must be heard on the floor ? Must it scale 
heaven, and the heaven of heavens, and scan the 



b TWILIGHT A^^D DAWNING. 

scene with scientific eye, as if it had received the 
command given to the prophet of the Apocalypse, 
^' Eise and measure the temple of God and the altar, 
and them that worship therein ?'' Must it enter 
that hallowed abode with the eye of an architect, sur- 
veying the style of the eternal mansions, and with 
the spirit of a reporter taking notes of the proceed- 
ings of that celestial conclave ? Must it, in reality, 
secularize the sentiments and the sighings of the soul 
that loves to think of heaven as it is ; the seat of 
every sanctity, the home of every penitent, the goal 
of every race, and the shore on which every wave of 
agitation breaks and dies away. If our investigation 
must be prosecuted, as touching the particulars of 
that home of peace, and rest, and holy love, it be- 
comes us to conduct them with reverence, and much 
gratitude, that there is prepared for us so exalted a 
sphere, associated with the music of harps, and 
touched by angels' hands ; in the absence of every 
element of turbulence, and in the enjoyment of every 
possible good. We will venture for our edification 
in holiness, and as a motive to quicken our aspira- 
tions after that better land, to refer to some of the 
things that were made to pass before the mind of 
this distinguished Divine, when, on several occasions 



HEAVEN OPENED. 7 

he looked and saw that a door was opened in heaven. 
The phraseology so continually employed, we are 
aware, is richly figurative ; and this may be account- 
ed for from the difficulty of conveying just and suit- 
able impressions through any other medium. After 
all it must be acknowledged, that the entire field of 
imagery brought into requisition falls infinitely be- 
low the glorious reality. We merely sketch ideal 
pictures, and not perfect representations of the majes- 
ty of the future. There is no pencil that can deline- 
ate scenes in which Q-od manifests His presence. 
There is no human coloring that can emulate the 
effulgence which issues from His throne. When we 
speak to men of the deep and permanent repose that 
lies unbroken in the realms of the future ; when we 
enlarge on the unreserved manifestations of Deity to 
all ranks of the glorified ; when we declare that 
Christ, as the Minister of the Sanctuary, will un- 
fold to His Church the mysteries that have so much 
perplexed them ; when we gather together what is 
gorgeous, and precious, and beautiful, iu the visible 
creation, and crowd it into the imagery with which 
we speak of the final home of the saints ; when we 
take the sun from the firmament, that the Lord God 
alone may shine there, and remove all temples from 



8 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

the city, that the Almighty may be its sanctuary, 
and hush all human minstrelsy^ that the tide of song 
may roll from ten thousand times ten thousand 
voices — when we speak thus, we speak only the 
words of truth and soberness, and we have not ap- 
proached the greatness, nor exhibited one half the 
loveliness, of the portion which awaits the disciples 
of Christ. We believe that when it falls to the lot 
of that shining company to make the circuit of the 
celestial city, as they walk about Zion, and go round 
about her, telling the towers thereof, marking well 
her bulwarks, and considering her palaces, that they 
are prompted irresistibly to exclaim, " as we have 
heard, so have we seen in the city of our God/' We 
heard that here the wicked cease from troubling, and 
-the weary are at rest ; and now we are witnesses of 
the rich, deep calm. We heard that here we should 
be present with the Lord, and see Him face to face ; 
and now we behold Him in all His blessedness. We 
heard that here the clouds and imperfections of earth 
would no longer be felt, and that we should know, 
even as we are known ; and now the burden of mor- 
tality is rolled off, and the ample page of universal 
truth is open to our inspection. We heard that 
here, with the crown on the head, and the harp in the 



HEAVEN OPENED, 9 

hand, we should hymn the praises of our adorable 
Kedeemer ; and now we wear the diadem^ and wake 
the melody. We can take to ourselves the words 
which the dying leader, Joshua, used of ?he Israel- 
ites : ^^ Not one thing hath failed of all the good 
things which the Lord our God spake concerning 
"US : all are come to pass, and not one thing hath 
failed thereof." 

The first object that was disclosed to view through 
the open door of heaven, we may suppose, was its 
picturesque and magnificent scenery. It is usually 
conceived of as a place high and lifted up ; the resi- 
dence of beatified beings : sometimes presented to 
us under the image of a city, sometimes of a temple, 
sometimes of a palace or royal court, and sometimes 
of an almost boundless amphitheatre. It was the 
privilege of the beloved disciple to behold it under 
each and all of these similitudes : " And I, John, 
saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem coming down 
from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned 
for her husband.'' 

He saw it pendent before his eyes in ample prospect 
— in extensive and amazing survey. He saw the im- 
mense and astonishing exhibition with the same 
clearness and facility that St. Peter saw the vision of 



10 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

the sheet let down by its four corners. He saw its 
walls, and bulwarks, and gates, and foundations, and 
multiplied fortifications, in all their delicate and 
wisely adjusted proportions. He saw twelve gates, 
and at the gates twelve angels : the wall of the city 
had twelve foundations, and in them the names of . 
the twelve apostles of the Lamb. The plan of the 
city was four square, the length as large as the 
breadth ; and the length, and the breadth, and the 
height of it equal. Through the midst of the city 
ran the river of life, clear as crystal proceeding from 
the throne of God and the Lamb. On each side of 
the river was a street, and in the midst of the street 
was the tree of life — in other words, a long and 
beautiful row of that species of tree, affording an 
avenue for the glorified inhabitants to walk between 
the mansions an4 the trees, and between the trees 
and the river, on either side. 

"And I saw,^' said John, "'no temple therein, for 
the Lord God Almighty, and the Lamb, are the 
temple of it.'' This seems to strike us like discord 
in a world of harmony. It looks like a gap in the 
landscape, a stain on the glory. Take away our 
beautiful temples, our peaceful Sabbaths, our public 
ordinances, our village spires, our chimes and our 



HEAVEN OPENED. 11 

songs of praise, and you despoil earth of her beauty, 
time of its most brilliant gems, and humanity of its 
sweetest and most precious birthright. To a pious 
mind there is nothing half so attractive as our tem- 
ples of worship. They are sacred edifices, selected 
and separated from the surrounding worldliness, and 
walled and fenced off, and legibly and visibly devoted 
to spiritual things. We need continuously to have 
our impressions of future realities deepened. We 
require our love to God, our reverence for His truth, 
our patience and our peace strengthened and nour- 
ished ; and nowhere are the springs of these so 
abundant and ovei-flowing, as in the house of prayer. 
But in heaven those temples are unnecessary, and 
accordingly there are none. There is not a spot in 
the realms of space but what is holiness to the Lord. 
There is no world to keep out, no intrusion to pre- 
vent, and no difference between one service and 
another. All scenes are salvation, all seasons festi- 
vals, all hours canonical, and all sounds praise. The 
heavenly world has no sequestered places of worship. 
It is of itself one vast temple, and its inhabitants 
one great body of holy and happy beings. 

^' And the city had no need of the sun, neither of 
the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God did 



12 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof/^ The 
sun and the moon, it should be remembered, are not 
fountains of light. They are only reflections. The 
moon has long been known as an opaque body, and 
the sun is ascertained to be opaque, also ; and the 
light which they both give is not selt-derived, but 
borrowed. The earth's light at midnight is borrowed 
from the moon. The moon's light is borrowed from 
the sun. And the sun's light is borrowed from some 
more central sun, around which a thousand suns and 
a thousand systems are perpetually. revolving. And 
these all derive their light and grandeur and magnifi- 
cence from the glorious Jehovah, who is their great 
original. The light that emanates immediately from 
Him supplies all. He is the fountain of illumina- 
tion ; and that richer, intenser light, of which He is 
the sole author, shall supercede all lesser lights, and 
overflow with a flood the New Jerusalem. GrOD is 
light, and clothes Himself with light as with a gar- 
ment. 

" All o'er those wide, extended plains 
Shines one eternal day ; 
There God, the Son forever reigns, 
And scatters night away." 

The developments of that world, which are thus made 



HEAVEN OPENED. 13 

to US in the sacred page, and in the illuminations of 
the Holy Ghost, most admirably combine to place 
us, as members of the Church of Christ, in an ex- 
pectant position. As those for whom that exuberant 
scenery is legitimately prepared and preserved, we 
launch forth in the contemplation of it with antici- 
pations of the most extatic and irrepressible character. 

From the soul-refreshing survey of those beautiful 
objects that are spread out in all their loveliness at 
our feet, we look forward to the celestial city ; to its 
pearly gates ; to its golden streets ; to its radiant 
pavement ; to its love-built mansions ; to its life- 
watered paradise ; to its verdant fields ; to its glassy 
sea and eternal noon — we look forward to these as 
the consummation of every hope and desire ; the cli- 
max of our highest aspirations, and the only heaven 
to which we desire an entrance. 

The next particular to which we would refer ^ is the 
interesting discovery which was made through the 
open door, as to the construction of its society. Fore- 
most in the scene, and radiant with light and splen- 
dor, was the throne of the Great Eternal, and that 
august and glorious Being who sat on it, exercising 
supreme and benignant authority over the mighty 
expanse. Bound about the throne was a rainbow, in 



14 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

sight like unto an emerald. This beautiful arch — 
this semi-circle of the seven prismatic colors, woven 
out of sun-beams and rain-drops, was an emblem of 
the everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and 
sure. The predominating green that mostly prevails 
in creation, because softest and most suitable to the 
eye, was intended to teach the subduing influence of 
the humanity of Jesus, on the otherwise inapproach- 
able rays of splendor that shone so luminously 
through it. This is, in fact, the character of heaven. 
The crown of Jesus is visible in the subdued light 
of the cross. The throne of glory lies in the light of 
Calvary. Encircling the throne were four and twenty 
seats, and upon the seats four and twenty elders sit- 
ting clothed in white raiment, and they had on their 
heads crowns of gold. Conjoined with these, and in 
immediate proximity to the throne, were the cheru- 
bim and seraphim ; the living creatures with wings 
full of eyes, that rest not day and night, saying, 
" Holy, holy, holy, Lokd God Almighty, which was, 
and is, and is to come.'' Then there was the voice 
of many angels, and the number of them was ten 
thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thou- 
sands, saying, " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, 
to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and 



HEAVEN OPENED. 15 

strength, and honor, and glory and blessing/' Then 
there was the number of the sealed, and they were 
said to be an hundred and forty-four thousand of all 
the tribes of the children of Israel. Then there was 
a great multitude from the Gentile world, which no 
man could number ; of all nations, and kindreds, 
and people, and tongues, standing before the throne 
and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and 
having palms in their hands ; and they cried with a 
loud voice, " Salvation to our God who sitteth upon 
the throne, and unto the Lamb." These are repre- 
sented as the redeemed, having come out of great 
tribulation from a wilderness of suffering and sorrow ; 
from a dry and thirsty land, where, if the flowers of 
joy are planted, they are planted only to wither ; 
and the dark, unwelcome cypress of grief is permitted 
to flourish and grow" alone. Their robes having been 
washed and made white in the blood of the crucified 
One, the honors of the throne are communicated to 
them, and they are as though they sat on it. 

^'To him that overcometh,'' saith Christ, ^Svill I 
grant to sit with Me on My throne, even as I also 
overcame, and am set down with My Father on His 
throne.'' The attiibutes of royalty are thus gra- 
ciously imparted to them, and they are made to reign 



16 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

as kings and priests unto God forever. The atten- 
tions they receive from the throne are a sufficient au- 
thentication of their ample and ineffable felicity. 
Blessed with God's immediate presence ; with the 
consciousness of His favor ; with the memorials of 
His mercy and triumph ; with the vision of Christ ; 
with the perfection of knowledge and purity, and 
with intercourse with angels and arch-angels, and all 
the company of heaven, what more can be needful to 
constitute an atmosphere pure and perennial — the 
plenitude and the fulness of immortality.^ It is re- 
corded of them, they shall hunger no more, neither 
thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on then], 
nor any heat ; but the Lamb Who is in the midst of 
the throne shall feed them, and lead them to living 
fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away every 
tear from their eyes. The Lamb is all and in all. 
There is no relation of tenderness which He does not 
sustain ; there is no want which He does not supply ; 
there is no blessedness which He does not seal. The 
brightness of the sapphire throne might dazzle and 
overwhelm us, and the magnificence of pure and ev- 
erlasting divinity prostrate us in the dust ; but the 
tenderness of the Lamb, so sweetly blended with maj- 
esty, sustains and preserves our communications with 



HEAVEN OPENED. 17 

all its occupants. Intercourse with Christ and His 
saints forms^ perhaps^ the chief component ingredient 
in the happiness above. We wonder not that it 
should be so, as it already enters so largely into the 
composition of our happiness on earth. Some of our 
purest delights in this world arise from intercourse 
with kindred spirits. And if there be a moment when 
the imperfect happiness of time bears any resem- 
blance to the bliss of eternity, it is when the agitated 
spirit is solaced with the tones of tenderness, and 
the associations of kindred and of home. It is then 
we feel that we travel not alone and forgotten. It is 
then we think of the dear ones who are gone far 
away into their own bright land ; and it is then we 
think of the meeting of the happy, where no enemies 
will disturb our repose ; where no distance will sepa- 
rate, and where friendship will be perpetuated for- 
ever. 

Our fellowship with Christ is the secret that gives 
so much zest to the enjoyment of our fellowship with 
each other. There are seasons of communion that 
we have with Him, that fill us with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory. Whether in the body or out of the 
body we can scarcely tell. But the world speedily 
interposes, and calls us down again to the objects of 



18 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

earth. This makes us sigh the more deeply for that 
complete and perfect communion which heaven only 
can afford, where the man of sorrows and the brother 
born for adveisity will be seen in all his loveliness. 
There i the illustrious personage Whose mother Jo- 
seph was minded to put away ; Whose birth-place 
was not a temple but a stable ; Whose claims His 
own brethren rejected ; Whose patience His own dis- 
ciples wearied ; Whose character His own country- 
men defamed, and Whose sacred body was enfeebled 
with fatigue. There shines resplendent the face that 
was spit upon, covered with tears and marred more 
than any man's. There is that identical form that 
was crucified, and laid cold and breathless in the sep- 
ulchre, and that rose from the dead on the third day. 
There is the King of Glory, who clave his way up- 
ward to the heaven of heavens, and now lives forev- 
ermore. 

The last lesson we would draw from the opened 
heavens^ is the different ranks and, degrees of promo- 
tion that was observable among the glorified. Sev- 
eral of these are distinctly specified, and others are 
mentioned, indirectly, in different portions, both of 
the Old and New Testaments. We read of angels 
and archangels, cherubim and* seraphim, thrones and 



HEAVEN OPENED. 19 

dominions, principalities and powers. We read of 
one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, 
and another glory of the stars ; and that one star 
differeth from another star in glory. We read, 
" They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of 
the firmament, and they that turn many to right- 
eousness, as the stars for ever and ever.'' The para- 
ble of the ten pounds teaches the same fact : the 
good trader with ten pounds gained rule over ten 
cities, and the diligent possessor of five pounds gained 
five cities. The rewards of the Master were distrib- 
uted to His servants in proportion to their several 
improvements. Our blessed Lord said, '' In My Fa- 
therms house are many mansions \" some higher and 
some lower, according to the measure of piety and 
devotedness to God which men have attained in this 
life. The ancient fathers all understood the passage 
in this light ; and the many mansions seem hardly 
intelligible, without admitting the existence of ine- 
quality, even in heaven. 

The request of the mother of Zebedee's children 
may be cited as another instance equally conclusive. 
She came with her two sons to Christ and said, 
" Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on 
thy right hand, and the other on the left, in thy 



20 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

kingdom." James and John had probably told her 
that there would be degrees of dignity among the 
Apostles themselves ; and as^ in the ancient kingdom 
of Israel, the two first places of honor belonged to 
the princes of the tribes of Judah and Joseph, she 
asks these places for her sons in the kingdom of 
Chkist. To sit at the right hand of a king is deemed 
by all eastern nations, the next place of dignity to 
the king himself. Hence, Solomon, sitting on his 
royal throne, commanded his mother to be set on his 
right hand. The third place of dignity was on the 
left ; and farther, and still farther from the king, 
according to their capacities and qualifications. It is 
observable that our Lord did not deny that there are 
such places in heaven, but fully admitted it, and 
assured her that those seats of honor would be dis- 
tributed according to the pleasure of His Father, to 
those who are most worthy to enjoy them. 

To the same effect are all those passages which 
speak of the awards of the final judgment, when 
every man shall receive the things done in the body, 
according, to that he hath done, whether it be good 
or bad. ^'Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he 
also reap.'' ''He that soweth to the flesh, shall of 
the flesh reap corruption ; but he that soweth to the 



HEAVEK OPENED. 21 

spirit, shall of the spirit reap life everlasting/' "And 
this I say, that he which sovveth sparingly, shall reap 
sparingly ; and he which soweth bountifully shall 
reap bountifully/' Our present life is nothing but a 
seed-time for eternity; and the future harvest will 
be according to the seed "we sow, in kind, quality and 
quantity. The greater proficiency we make here in 
divine knowledge and holiness ; the greater fidelity 
and diligence we show in the discharge of the duties 
of our particular station ; the more laborious we are 
in the improvement of the talents entrusted to our 
cai'e ; the more we abound in the fruits of righteous- 
ness and good works ; the more we excel in spirit- 
uality and heavenly mindedness, the higher shall we 
rise in gloiy, and the more fitted shall we be to serve 
God, in some exalted station near the throne. Every 
degree of grace we acquire here shall advance us to a 
higher degree of glory hereafter. And I wish to im- 
press this sentiment very deeply on your minds, that 
it is the tendency of superior piety to prepare for su- 
perior distinction. All in heaven will be perfectly 
happy, but not equally so. They will be happy ac- 
cording to their capacity ; but their capacities will 
vary — vary like two diamonds that may be of the 
same purity and brilliancy, and yet of different sizes 



22 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

and value. You have now the opportunity to con- 
tend for one of the noblest prizes. Covet earnestly 
the best gifts ; aspire to a seat near the throne ; seek 
to glow and shine like the seraphim ; be eminent in 
grace that you may be eminent in glory ; lay up rich 
treasures ; endeavor after an abundance into the 
everlasting kingdom. Another moment's conflict and 
self-denial may add a jewel to your crown^ and lift 
you a step higher in the scale of majesty and triumph. 
And shall it be said of any among us^ that they 
heard of heaven, but made no effort to obtain it. Is 
there one who can be indifferent to the announce- 
ments of its glories ? — one who can feel utterly care- 
less whether he enter it or not ? The young and the 
old, the rich and the poor— all sorts and conditions of 
men, should be ready to bind themselves with a sol- 
emn vow, that they will henceforth seek j^rst the 
kingdom of GrOD and His righteousness. The door 
which John saw in heaven is still open. Christ 
says, ^^I am the door,'' " I am the way.'' "No man 
cometh unto the Father but by me.'' It is only 
through Him that we can see or anticipate anything 
in the future. He has thrown the door wide open, 
and invites you and invokes you to enter. ^^ Strive 
to enter in at the strait gate ; for I say unto you 
that many shall seek to enter in, and shall not be 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 23 

able/' " When once the Master of the house is risen 
up, and hath shut to the door, and ye begin to stand 
without, and to knock at the door, saying, Lord open 
unto us ; and he shall answer and say unto you I 
know you not, whence ye are/' Cross the threshhold 
by faith here, and you shall cross it actually there 
amid the greetings and hosannas of the glorified. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE BETTER COUNTRY, 



The spirit of emigration is one of the most prom- 
inent features of the age in which we live. There is 
a growing disposition among men to remove from 
place to place. The principal motive for such change 
is unquestionably a belief that their temporal condi- 
tion can thereby be improved, and the comforts and 
luxuries of life be more easily obtained. Hence, those 
who remove fix their minds upon some part of a 
widely extended country, which they suppose is capa- 
ble of yielding them the desires of their hearts, and 
thither they bend their course, If you ask them 



24 TWILIGHT AND DAWNINa 

why they submit so cheerfully to the toils and priva- 
tions of a long and tedious voyage or journey, they 
will tell you that they desire a better country. The 
great object which the patriarchs had in view ; and 
in seeking which they felt as strangers and pilgrims 
on the earth — was a better country, that is, an heav- 
enly. The same hope that gladdened them animates 
the Christian now. He lives by faith. He is not 
satisfied with the leeks, the onions and garlics of 
Egypt, but seeks a land where his soul can be fed and 
clothed in a manner suitable to the cravings of its 
nature. He is therefore journeying toward the place 
of which the Lord hath said, '^ I will surely give it 
you.'" His destination is a better country, that has 
on it a city which hath foundations, whose builder 
and whose maker is God. The expression employed 
by the Holy Spirit to portray it conveys much to 
the heart that ponders it ; and yet it is only one 
among many others to denote the blessedness of the 
prospect about to dawn on us. Is there anything 
exquisitely dear in the recollection of home ? That 
word, so musical in its sound, and so magnificent in 
its contents, is summoned to express the heaven, the 
birth-place, and the ultimate happiness of the Chris- 
tian. Is there anything splendid and permanent in 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 25 

mansions, as contrasted with the evanescence and 
insecurity of tents ? ^'In my Father's house/' said 
Christ, "are many mansions/^ perpetual, abiding. 
Is there anything stirring as the trumpet in the 
sound of one's country ; that country at the very 
name and reminiscence of which a Jew's heart beats 
with joy ? That word is used to paint the rest that 
remains for the people of God. The stores of nature 
are thus exhausted of their symbols, and human 
language of much that is expressive, in order that 
each and all of them, combined, may set forth the 
lustre and glory of the country to which we are tend- 
ing. The desire to find some better place, some love- 
lier spot than the one we now have, is the common 
feeling of our nature. Who would not like to have, 
at the close and decline of life, some sheltered and 
quiet nook, where, if he cannot experience a rest that 
will never be moved, he may enjoy at least a fore- 
taste and foreshadow of it ? What was it that car- 
ried Columbus across the western wave, and sus- 
tained him on the unsounded sea, amid the untrav- 
ersed waste of waters ? The hope of a better country. 
What was it that nerved the Pilgrim Fathers to 
brave the winter storms of the Atlantic, and fear not 
the iron-bound coast, and the rugged and unknown 



26 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

territory on which they set their feet ? It was the 
hope of a better^ a freer^ and more peaceful country. 
And what is the explanation of the frequent efforts 
to revolutionize Europe by plunging the different 
powers in war ? It is the expectation of making it 
a better country. This indigenous and indomitable 
hope, as it is implanted in our bosoms, is not to be 
wholly disappointed. The feeling is almost an in- 
stinct, and is yet to be realized in the betterness of 
heaven. There is a wide contrast between the heav- 
enly country and this; and by following out that 
contrast we shall the more readily arrive at the par- 
ticulars in which it is better. 

It is better, as it is more exalted in its nature. It 
is there that Jehovah sits enthroned in regal glory. 
There He holds His court. There is His palace. It 
is a place inlaid with Deity, full of God. The 
Psalmist, when picturing to himself the brightest 
thing he should see there, and the intensest joy he 
should taste, spoke thus : '' Whom have I in heaven 
but thee ?^' He knew that he had a child there, and 
the consolation he felt under its loss was, " I shall 
go to him, but he will not return to me.'' His child 
was therefore in heaven, yet it was so lost in the pres- 
ence, and amid the attractions of the Saviour, that 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 27 

the father could say, " Whom have I in heaven but 
Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire be- 
eide Thee/' There is a beautiful distinction in those 
words of David, well worth our attention. When 
he speaks of heaven, he says, ^^ Whom have I ?'^ 
but when he speaks of earth, he says, '^ There is 
none I desire )'' evidently wishing us to understand 
that, while earth is the place of desiring^ heaven is 
the place of having, and of having in full fruition. 
The Lamb in the midst of the throne captivates with 
His glory, every eye, and charms every heart. The 
reason that the songs in heaven are so musical is be- 
cause He is the key-note. The reason that its hymns 
are so i)recious is because He is the object of the 
adoration. The reason those scenes of glory and 
beauty are so attractive, is because they lie in the 
light of His countenance. That throne is so august, 
because He sits upon it. That glory is so bright, be- 
cause the glory of His people Israel is the substance 
of it. And all heaven is increasingly dear, because 
He who loved us and washed us in His blood, and 
clothes us in His righteousness, is its life and its 
theme. 

It is a better country j because it is more healthy. 
The parent of all our present sickness and disease is 



28 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

sin. It has defiled every acre of earth's surface. Its 
foul trail may be traced from Paradise in ruins^ on- 
wards to the uttermost ends of the globe. There is 
no spot it has not breathed on. There is no flower it 
has not blasted. There is no beautiful scene it has 
not tarnished and spoiled. It is the fever that now 
agitates all creation ; the heavy curse that keeps na- 
ture repressed ; the incubus that withholds and 
keeps back all its hidden powers and makes it groan. 
This curse is there utterly swept away. There is no 
disease ; no bodily^ nor mental^ nor spiritual pain^ 
because there is no sin. There the inhabitant shall 
never say I am sick, and 

*' Not a wave of trouble rolls 
Across the peaceful breast.'* 

There not a leaf fades ; not a flower withers ; not a 
fruit corrupts. There are no waning moons ; no 
setting suns ; no ebbing tides ; no stormy seas ; no 
lightning to scathe ; no earthquakes to explode. 
There is no more sorrow, nor crying, nor death, for 
the former things are passed away. It is a land of 
light, unclouded ; a land upon whose blissful shores 
there rest no shadows, fall no storms 

That is a tetter country^ inasrmich as it has better 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 29 

society, Man was made for society. The love of 
society is indigenous to him. It cannot be dispensed 
with. Intense solitude would be intense misery. 
God saw^ that in Paradise it was not good for man 
to be alone, and He made a helpmeet for him. 
Even a monk has fellow-monks. But society, with 
all its blessings and advantages, must be sought with 
caution. It is full of uncertainties. The face is not 
always the exact exponent of the heart. The word 
is not always the true echo of the thought. Man 
has not always perfect confidence in his brother. He 
is not always what he appears to be. The best cir- 
cles are sometimes pervaded by suspicion. But in 
that better country, wherever it be, and whatever be 
its component parts, the countenance is unmistak - 
able ; the gentlest whisper is the embodiment of the 
soul's affection. 

To the blissful fellowship of that society we are 
already admitted; for, says the Apostle, ^'Ye are 
come to an innumerable company of angels ; to the 
general assembly and church of the first-born, which 
are written in heaven, and to God, the Judge of all, 
and to the spirits of just men made perfect." This 
is that beautiful thought, the communion of saints, 
expressed in the Apostles' Creed. It is the forelight 



30 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

of future communion unrestricted and complete. 
The Church in heaven and earth are one. We 
Christians on earth are in the vestibule ; the outer 
court worshipping without ; they, Christians in heav- 
en are in the inner court, adoring within. We drink 
of the streams, after they have issued from the foun- 
tain, and made glad the city of God ; they drink of 
the fountain at the fountain head. They may see us, 
and know us, and be acquainted with many of our 
ways : this is perfectly possible ; at least, there is 
nothing unscriptural in the idea. Those friends of 
ours who have preceded us to that better land, may 
be much nearer to us at this moment, than our rela- 
tives who are a hundred miles away. The partition 
that separates us may be very thin. It may be so 
thin that to them it is transparent, and the sounds 
of our praises audible. Who knows but that the 
anthems of our worship below may have their echoes 
amid the choirs of the blessed above ? 

The heavenly is a tetter country^ because it affords 
better occupations and brighter joys. Much of our 
time is necessarily occupied, at present, in laborious 
and unremitting toil, either with the head or the 
hands. In the sweat of our brows we are required to 
eat our bread, till we return to the dust. What 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 81 

shall we eat^ what shall we drink, and wherewithal 
shall we be clothed ? are humhling questions, to 
which every one must give attention in some way or 
other. But they are all disposed of in that better 
rest. The glorified inhabitants shall hunger no more, 
neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light 
on them, nor any heat ; but the Lamb, in the midst of 
the throne, shall feed them, and lead them to living 
fountains of waters, and GrOD shall wipe away every 
tear from their eyes. Prayer is lost in the full pos- 
session of the object. Hope is lost in praise ; con- 
flict is lost in victory ; and tears are lost in everlast- 
ing joy. All o'er those wide extended plains the 
atmosphere is ever fragrant with bliss. The vision 
has no parting splendor. The exhibition is not one 
that we shall be too late to witness. The sweet 
strain is not one of which we shall only hear the last 
note. The spring will be unfading ; the harmony 
ever joyous. 

The patriarchs who saw this better country afar 
off, desired it ; lived in search of it, and confessed 
that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. 
The beauteous landscape, as seen by them, was only 
reflected through dim shadows ; but forming their 
opinion of it from the splendid promises which God 



32 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

had given^ they knew it to be the country of the 
faithful^ and the home of the soul. The topography 
of Canaan^ which they inherited, was intended in 
most of its features, strongly to point to it, and 
bring it to remembrance. Hence, the pious Jew, 
wherever he was driven, never forgot Jerusalem. 
" If I forget thee, Jerusalem,^' was his language, 
" let my right hand forget her cunning." When he 
prayed to the God of his fathers, he opened his win- 
dows, like Daniel, and looked toward Jerusalem. 
The Jew was thus a physical and material symbol of 
what we ourselves should be. If we profess to have 
renounced the follies and vanities of this wicked 
world, and to have set our faces heaven-ward, our 
hearts should often pulsate towards our home, and 
our eyes and affections turn to the Jerusalem which 
is above ; which is the mother of us all. Our 
thoughts, as we pass along the road or the field, 
should be, where is it ? how soon shall we be there ? 
and is this fragrance, just wafted across my path, the 
foretaste of its perfume ? Are those sounds which I 
hear the melodious accents of the voice of my Heav- 
enly Father ? Are those sights which I see, traces 
of His beneficence and love ? Does this sweep of 
years that dims my earthly vision, brighten my heav- 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 33 

enly prospect ? And do I feel a deeper and stronger 
joy at the thought of so magnificent a home, as I am 
nearing its borders ? It is reported of the ten thou- 
sand Greeks, in the celebrated retreat of Xenophon, 
that when they saw the sea for which they had longed, 
they shouted, Thalassa! Thalassa! and made the 
shores vibrate with their echoes. So, as the denizens 
of that better country, ought our hopes to burn 
brighter, and our joys to increase in brilliancy, as 
often as we catch a gleam of its glory, or hear a note 
of its songs ; and like David we should long for ad- 
mission to it, when we shall be no more strangers and 
foreigners, but pilgrims at home. 

There is a talisman in the word home, which needs 
but little philosophy to analyze. We may explore 
and admire other countries, and find charms in the 
society of new friends, but the chains that bind us as 
with adamant to our homes, no time can weaken, and 
no novelty untwine. The patriotism of a nation is 
nothing more than the combined love which every 
individual bears to the place of his nativity, hallowed 
as it must always be by the dearest associations of 
personal and social enjoyment. Yet it is not so much 
the place itself, as the events of which it has been 
the scene, that invests it with so much interest. It 



34 TWILIGHT AND DAT\'XIXG. 

is a delusion to imagine that we have any peculiar 
fondness for the buildings themselves^ or the mode of 
their construction, or the landscapes we survey from 
them, be they ever so luxuriant. These may, indeed, 
be deserving the highest admiration ; but then it is 
not for themselves, alone, that we cherish a predilec- 
tion for them. It is because they are allied to times 
and occurrences and persons connected with our early 
histories, that they naturally obtain from us so large 
a measure of regard. 

This universal law of attachments being literally 
dependent on association, affords a beautiful instance 
of the power of memory in the soul, and the delicacy 
of the links that bind it to the objects of its faith. 
By this simple touchstone, the whole mechanism of 
the heart is regulated : and as sm'ely as the lyre re- 
sponds to the gentlest touch of the wind, the spirit 
never fails to reply to the softest breath of early as- 
sociation. The warrior, whose thirst for glory has 
caused the blood of his fellow-men to flow on the bat- 
tle-field, gladly throws aside the weapons of his war- 
fare to enjoy the pleasures and the peace of home. 
The hapless exile, separated by unmeasured distance 
from relatives and friends, fancies that he is not quite 
solitary, and feels something like inward emotion, as 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 35 

he sighs out a longing desire for the home he has left. 
The stern seaman^ accustomed through many long 
years to the tossings of the deep, and hardened by 
familiarity with dangers and deaths, drops tears of 
occasional tenderness as he paces the lonely deck, and 
there flits across his mind the reminiscence of home, 
in the solemn midnight watch. And see him as he 
approaches the shores of the land which bears upon 
its surface the home of his kindred, and all that he 
regards as dear. The mists of the morning have 
gathered, and hang along the shore like a mantle. 
He stands upon the prow of his vessel, and gazes in- 
tently into the gloom : and though he cannot descry 
the land, yet he knows it is there. And as the sun 
gains his ascendancy and dispels the clouds, and he is 
enabled to see the fields, the woods, th© rural spots, 
and the home of his childhood, his eye sparkles with 
animation, and his heart beats with delight, as he 
hopes soon to find himself in the bosom of a fiimily 
beloved. It is just so with the Christian who has 
long been absent, and is now approaching the better 
country. With the eye of his faith he discovers the 
mountain tops of his destined home ; and if they are 
quickly enveloped in fogs, and his faith fluctuates, he 
steadily looks through the gloom, till the Sun of 



36 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Kighteousness dispels the darkness, and the better 
country, with its glorious scenery, bursts upon his 
view. His home is beautifully described to us — it 
is secured for us, and we are invited to enter it. 
Many of our brethren and sisters in Christ have 
already gone to it : and our gracious Saviour urges 
us to be also ready ; to be followers of them who 
through faith and patience are inheriting the prom- 
ises ; to set our affections on things above, and thus 
hasten our preparedness for the enjoyment which He 
has so mercifully reserved for us. The innocent love 
of home was surely not given merely to influence us 
in time, but to advance our meetness for eternity. 
And to this end every duty, every trial, every joy, 
every sorrow, and every arrangement should be made 
with a distinct calculation. Then while the homes 
of earth may be dear to us, we shall not be in danger 
of loving them too well, and we shall have the sure 
consolation that we have an incorruptible inheri- 
tance above, a home in our Father's house, where 
we shall dwell with Him forever. 

One of the brightest features in that better land 
may be found in the fact that many whom we have 
loved on earth have preceded us, and pre- occupied 
the home to which we are now aspiring. Fathers and 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 37 

mothers, sisters and brothers, friends and children are 
being daily removed to it, thus causing our home cir- 
cles gradually to vanish from the earth like a dissolv- 
ing view, and to develop themselves in the skies, an 
everlasting scene. Our home is where our family 
is — beyond the stars, and the holy and the interest- 
ing group that constitutes its charm and its attrac- 
tion is constantly accumulating there. Our property, 
to, is in heaven ; and it is fit and becoming that we 
should prepare to go to the place where it is, and 
take possession of it. One who cannot err has told 
us, that where our treasure is there will our hearts 
be also. We can almost know the man whose heart 
is in the world, by his downward look. The ardent, 
absorbing pursuit of money makes a man's face re- 
pulsive ; it hardens his heart, and degenerates his na- 
ture ; while the lofty aspiration towards that which is 
beyond the world casts an ennobling aspect on the 
countenance that looks sunward, and inspires him 
with a happy consciousness of the high dignity 
awaiting him. Man is a bundle of things called af- 
fections ; and, by the very nature and constitution of 
his being, he must place these affections on some- 
thing. The advice of Holy Writ is, ^^ Set your af- 
fections on things above, not on things on the earth.'' 



38 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Let your desires go forth in pursuit of the better 
country^ the heavenly. Confess yourselves to be 
strangers and pilgrims on the earth : for they that 
say such things declare plainly that they seek a coun- 
try. The word pilgrimage seems to comprehend all 
the particulars of our daily life ; representing the 
world in all its distinctions of rich and poor, young 
and old, on a journey to their everlasting home. 

And as in the common journies of the world some 
are long, and marked with a diversity of events, and 
others short and quickly performed, there is some- 
thing analogous to this in our heaven-ward course. 
To be strangers and pilgrims is to be in a condition 
the very opposite to that of a home station — it is in- 
dicative of motion, not rest. An end and an object 
are proposed in the journey before us, but no bargain- 
ing and gaining in the foreign land. Our daily course 
must be a travelling onward. We are home-bound 
pilgrims. Every day brings us nearer, and it becomes 
us to be in readiness. Sometimes our progress may 
be considerable ; at other times slender ; and at all 
times less than we could wish. At one time we are 
cheered with hope, and gladdened by success ; and 
anon discouraged by clouds and doubts, disquietudes 
and disappointments, and the difficulties of the way. 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 39 

But the characteristics of a pilgrimage are endur- 
ance and perseverence. The fare may be hard and dan- 
gers great^ but there is a glorious convoy and a heaven- 
ly guide. The circumstances are all arranged and 
provided for with infinite v^isdom. What we are to 
look after principally is the pilgrim's mind — the dis- 
position to bear ^with cheerfulness whatever may be 
encountered. If the sun shines pleasantly we must be 
thankful ; and if the road be rough and the weather 
stormy, we must not complain ; we are only trav- 
ellers. The Arabians were in the habit of pitch- 
ing their tents in the evening, and striking them the 
next morning. The Apostle Paul was probably fa- 
miliar with this custom, when referring to those ven- 
erable worthies of former days who all died in the 
faith ; not having received the promises, but having 
seen them afar ofi", and were persuaded of them and 
embraced them, — confessed that they were strangers 
and pilgrims on the earth. 

Animated by the principle of faith, which entered 
into and pervaded all their actions, the patriarchs 
lived well and died well. They lived in the expecta- 
tion of a better country beyond the grave — correctly 
estimated its latitude and longitude, and then died 
in the faith of possessing it. As their lives were 



^ TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

pious and simple, so their deaths were quiet and con- 
fiding. They seemed to fall asleep, as flowers on the 
approach of winter bow their heads submissively to 
the blast, and sweetly breathe their lives into the bo- 
som of Him who gave them. The benediction on their 
life is, '^ Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall 
see GrOD :" and the inscription on their tomb-stones, 
legible to the eye of faith is, '' Blessed are the dead 
that die in the Lord, for they rest from their labors, 
and their works do follow them." 

We glean from the subject the beautiful thought, 
that the present is the vestibule of the future — the 
introduction to the land of life and the living. The 
body is a mere garment of clay that must mingle 
with its parent earth ; but the soul is the inhabitant 
within, that has a pulse that will beat unceasingly — 
that lives a life that death cannot interfere with — that 
has ties and bonds that link it indissolubly to Deity, 
that neither death, nor disease, nor the grave shall be 
able to snap asunder. 



CHAPTER III. 

MANY MAKSIOI^TS. 



The home bound traveller feels more energy and 
elasticity of feeling as he draws near his residence, 
and discovers in the distance the wished-for spot of 
his clustered affections. So the Christian pilgrim, 
while he sojourns on earth, is surrounded with many 
dangers, and exposed to many storms ; but he com- 
forts himself with the prospect of home, and that 
home is heaven. Tears of sorrow will occasionally 
trickle down his cheeks ; but he knows that though 
he sows in tears, he will reap in joy. Through the 
dark night of human calamity he is enabled to pen- 
etrate the gloom that envelops him, and to rejoice 
in hope of the glory of God. The religion of Jesus 
connects him with two worlds — with earth and with 
heaven. It shows him the distinct and golden links 
of the chain that binds them together, and softens 
the trials of the one, by the prospects and anticipa- 
tions of the other. It addresses him as the sorrow- 



42 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ing inhabitant of time, and the joyful exjjectant of 
eternity, and the same voice which says, Let not 
your heart be troubled, whispers also in our hearing, 
In my Father's house are many mansions. This mer- 
ciful adaptation of the Gospel to our whole being is 
eminently calculated to render it worthy of all ac- 
ceptation. It concentrates in itself all that is excel- 
lent and holy. It unites the present and future states 
together, the visible and the invisible, and points on- 
ward to the world where the designs of grace and 
mercy shall be fully accomplished, and the disconso- 
late members of the Church-militant be happy and 
triumphant forever, Eaising us from the dust, and 
infusing into our hearts the germ of a new life, it 
makes us feel that the present is but the dawn of our 
day, the spring of our youth, the beginning of our 
existence : the thoughts and emotions and affections 
of which we are now conscious, being too large for 
this world, can only find free scope, when permit- 
ed to expatiate, without interruption, in a better 
state of existence. 

Christ spoke of this interesting theme to His disci- 
ples, on the eve of His departure. He was just about 
to pass through the tragical scenes of Gethsemane and 
Calvary, and then to ascend up where He was before. 



MANY MANSIONS. 43 

He endeavored to assuage their grief, by assuring 
Ihem that He would not leave them comfortless ; that 
they should not be orphans, and that the Holy Spir- 
it, Whom He was about to send them, would more 
than compensate for the loss of His bodily presence ; 
reminding them, at the same time, that after a little 
while He would come again, and take them to Himself. 
They felt it a trial of no ordianry magnitude to be de- 
prived of the society of one who had so pleasingly en- 
deared Himself to their hearts, on numerous interest- 
ing occasions. Yet the removal of loved ones from our 
circles is what may fairly be expected. Earth-born 
joys are like April sunshine, gladdening while it lasts, 
but soon clouded. It is said that when the venerable 
S^^muel died, all Israel gathered themselves together 
and lamented him. When the affectionate Jonathan 
fell on his high place, David said, ^^ I am distressed 
for thee, my brother Jonathan : very pleasant hast 
thou been to me ; thy love to me was wonderful, pass- 
ing the love of women. ^' When Elisha beheld Elijah 
ascending to heaven in a chariot of fire, he cried : 
^^My Father, my Father, the chariot of Israel, and 
the horsemen thereof When Lazarus fell sick unto 
death, his sisters bemoaned him, saying, ^' Lord if 
thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.' 



44 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

When the martyr Stephen was taken away by 
violence, devout men carried him to his burial, and 
made great lamentation over him. When Jesus was 
about to reenter the mansions of His Father's house, 
the thought was intensely more afflictive to His dis- 
consolate followers. So long as He was present with 
them, they had a counsellor to whom they could per- 
sonally appeal, who could solve their perplexities, 
relieve their complaints, and bear their burdens. They 
had an intimate friend whose love never waxed cold, 
and to whom they had free access. They had Deity 
enshrined in a tabernacle of clay, whom they could 
look upon and converse with as a man converseth 
with his friend. They were now to be left behind as 
sheep in the midst of wolves, and as passengers in a 
vessel driven with the wind and tossed. Had the 
Saviour been going to some unknown region where 
they could not indulge the expectation of again be- 
holding Him, their sorrow would scarcely have admit- 
ted of alleviation. But, ^^ Whither I go,'' said He, 
" ye know, and the way ye know.'' I go to heaven as 
your forerunner, to arrange for your arrival and recep- 
tion to the same blessed abode. " I go to prepare a 
place for you ; and if I go and prepare a place for 
you, I will come again, and receive you unto Myself:, 



MANY MANSIONS. 45 

that where I am, there ye may be also/' To the glo- 
ries o£ that place of many mansions allow me to in- 
vite your meditations. 

My Father's house : what sweetness ! what sim- 
plicity ! What moral sublimity is there in this ! 
What a fair and beautiful designation ! It expresses 
Divine relationship. Jesus said , ^^ I ascend unto 
My Father and your Father ; and to My Goo and 
your God:'' thus intimating that the adorable Je- 
hovah stands in an equal relation to the Eedeemer 
and the redeemed. Christ also blended in His own 
nature the mysteries of both. As our daysman, He 
could lay His hand on the head of both parties. He 
could place one hand on the interests of humanity, 
and the other on the attributes of Divinity. ^^ Such 
an high priest became us, who is holy, harmless, un- 
defiled and separate from sinners, and made higher 
than the heavens. ^^ Seeing, then, that we have a 
great High priest that is passed into the heavens, Je- 
sus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession ; 
for we have not an high priest that cannot be touch- 
ed with the feeling of our infirmties, but was in all 
points tempted like as we are, and yet without sin/' 
The humiliation to which He stooped in the scheme of 
redemption enabled Him to identify himself in such 



46 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

a manner with His believing people^ that they are re- 
garded as sustaining with Himself the same filial 
relationship. He, their elder brother, and they His 
younger brethren. This union which originates with 
adoption into His family, and is cemented by faith 
and love, is an honor that eclipses every other connec- 
tion, and puts us in the possession of all that we can 
desire or enjoy. 

"Jesus streched forth His hand toward His disci- 
ples and said, " Behold My mother and My brethren. 
Whosoever shall do the will of My Father Who is in 
heaven, the same is My brother, and sister, and moth- 
er.'^ The relationship is more vital, more dignified, 
more tender and endearing than that of earthly ties. 
Mere human connections are daily breaking up. 
Whole families, with the several branches that be- 
longed to them, have entirely disappeared, and left not 
a trace behind. But the relationship subsisting be- 
tween Christ and His people is ever the same. He 
can point to them in the ranks of the glorified, and say, 
"Behold My mother and My brethren.'^ And w^hen ev- 
ery other bond shall be sundered, and the Lord shall 
come to receive His followers to Himself,He will recog- 
nize all as His kindred who have imbibed and cherish- 
ed His spirit ; and, extending His hands toward them. 



MANY MANSIONS. 47 

will say, "Ye are they which continued with me in 
my temptation, and I appoint unto you a kingdom/ 
There is much that is consolatory in the interest 
that Christ takes in the welfare of His individual 
members. Addressing His Father, he said, " Those 
that Thou gavest Me I have kept, and none of them is 
lost/^ How much like the family feeling, where each 
name and face are known so familiarly, that the least 
and the youngest would be missed. The place where 
each sits, the room which each occupies, the time of 
going out and coming in, the looks and tones of voice 
are so thoroughly known, that the moment any one 
is absent the vacancy is felt ; and there is no other 
being in the world that can supply the loss. The 
absence, when occasioned by death, makes a breach 
irreparable. When a flower fades, we sometimes see 
another spring up fresher and more fragrant, and we 
forget the faded one. But the withered family flower 
can have no successor like itself It dies, and there 
is a blank forever. Might it not be with some such 
feeling as this, that Jesus looked around upon His 
vast household circle, and while surveying each well- 
known face, gave thanks that not one was lost ; and, 
to add an infusion into their cup of enjoyment, which 
nothing earthly should embitter, fastened their anti- 



48 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

cipations on the many mansions of their Father's 
house. 

The Father's house is suggestive of holiness. There 
may be circumstances, unavoidable in this world, 
when one is compelled to live for a time in a wicked 
neighborhood ; but he will generally take care that a 
wicked neighbor shall not live in his house. David 
said, '^ I will suffer no wicked thing before mine eyes. 
He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my 
house : he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my 
sight. Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of the 
land, that they may dwell with me." And so our 
heavenly Father, in filling up His house on high, 
has laid it down as a rule, that " Holiness becometh 
His house forever, and without holiness no man shall 
see the Lord." Nothing' that defileth or worketh 
abomination shall ever cross the threshhold of the pal- 
ace gates ; or in the quaint language of Kutherford, 
"No unclean dog shall ever set foot in the fair 
streets of the New Jerusalem." Those, whose privi- 
lege it is to secure admission within the walls of that 
inner sanctuary, are first washed and made white in 
the blood of the Lamb. It is this freedom from the 
stain of sin that makes it so good to be there. And this 
should make us thankful, when we have reason to 



MANY MANSIONS. 49 

hope that our departed friends are there. They have 
gone to be with Jesus in the holy place. They have 
gone to the Father's house^ and are sure to be safe. 
They are in the climes of purity, in the home of good- 
ness, in the land of native excellence, to which all the 
piety and virtue of the universe are tending, as every 
particle of air returns to the atmosphere, and every 
drop of rain is found again in the ocean. 

The Father's house is descriptive of social enjoy- 
ment. It suggests the family group, the fire-side 
circle, the scene of much that is interesting and fe- 
licitous, the abode of peace and love and harmony. 
There is magic in the association, recalling a thou- 
sand reminisences which the cares and activities of 
life have no power to obliterate. It was there we 
learned to exercise our best emotions, and to recipro- 
cate those kindly feelings that bind heart to heart. 
And when the several members are governed by scrip- 
tural principles, and characterized by tender affection 
and kind ofBoes ; when there is a mutual desire to 
serve and to please, the smiles of love are reflected 
from the happy group, and the joys of domestic bliss 
are poured forth in unnumbered attractions. The 
parents look with ineffable delight on their children, 
and the children on their parents ; and they mutually 



50 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

rejoice in the anticipation of entering the mansions 
of their Father's house above, where the families of 
the righteous meet, no more to be severed. Such a 
scene is one of the purest that can be enjoyed on earth. 
It is as nearly as it can be Paradise restored. It 
leads us to think of that beautiful picture in the 
Eevelation of St. John. ^^ Behold the tabernacle of 
God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and 
they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be 
with them, and be their God.'' The great and glo- 
rious Jehovah condescends to dwell as a Father in 
the midst of His rejoicing family, Himself rejoicing 
over them. The flaws and failures of earthly piety 
have all vanished, and the God- ike affection is going 
forth to all that is holy, having the widest good will, 
and showing no shyness to the new come denizens. 
No stiffness or mien of strangerhood to the redeemed 
of other countries ; but assuring looks, and words of 
welcome to all who arrive from the east and from the 
west, to sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Ja- 
cob in the kingdom of God. The spirits of the just 
are made perfect, and the beloved are better loved, 
and the lovely more affectionate. 

The Father's house exhibits the home of the re- 
deemed. The present world was never intended to be 



MANY MANSIONS. 51 

the home of the soul — the permanent resting-place 
of the saints, only as preparatory to a higher and no- 
bler state of being. ^^ There remaineth, therefore, 
a rest to the people of God/^ full, free, complete 
and eternal. The word mansions is very emphatic. 
It means quiet resting-places, and points to the 
ultimate residence of the faithful in heaven. " This 
is not our rest, because it is polluted. There we have 
no continuing city.^^ We have not the feeling of 
stability and security. The props of life are broken 
down, one after another. Changes and wars are 
against us. The enemy scatters thickly around us his 
fiery darts. Stars fall, flowers fade, friends die. 
The rose loses its fragrance. The oak of the moun- 
tain drops its leaves. The mountains themselves 
decay with years. The ocean ebbs and flows, and 
will one day roll its last billow to the shore. The 
sun shines only for a season, and will some night set 
in darkness, heedless of the voice of the morning. 

" This earthly globe, the creature of a day, 
Though built by G-od's right hand, shall pass away, 

And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things — 
The fate of empires, and the pride of kings. 
Eternal night shall veil their proudest story. 
And drop the curtain o'er all human glory." 

But heaven partakes of the immortality of its Au- 



52 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

thor. And Jesus becomes the author of eternal 
salvation to all them that obey Him. The home He 
provides, above and beyond these lower skies^ is ad- 
mirably worthy of such a being, and equal to the 
majesty, and bounty and affection that He bears to 
the children of His love. When Doctor Eowland 
Taylor, a celebrated clergyman of the English Church, 
was approaching the town of Hadley in Suffolk, where 
he had long and usefully labored as a minister of 
Christ, and was now about to be a martyr, being 
asked how he was, replied, "Never better, for now I 
know that I am almost at home ;'' and, looking over 
the meadow between him and the place of execution, 
he said ; " only two stiles more, and I am at my 
Fathee^s house.'' The clouds that concealed it from 
his view were thin and transient. Another dark hour, 
and all would be bright, peaceful and happy. Close 
at hand was the object his faith embraced ; and how 
holy its spirit. Never did Hebrew captive, far away 
from the land of his fathers, turn his eye more de- 
voutly toward the temple at Jerusalem ; never did 
wandering Mussulman look more intently toward 
the Caaba at Mecca ; never did Siberian exile cherish 
more fondly the remembrance of native joys, or the 
solitary dweller in the Island of Juan Fernandes ; or 



MANY MANSIONS. 53 

the traveller, as he looks on the pyramids of Egypt, 
or crosses the Alps, than this venerable servant of 
God hailed, at such a time, his near approach to his 
everlasting home. 

There is music in the word home, which makes it one 
of the most delightful and expressive in our nervous 
Saxon tongue. We may wander into other lands, and 
mingle in the World's fierce strife ; we may form new 
associations and friendships ; but as we listen to the 
autumn winds, or look on the setting sun, the re- 
membrance of other days steals over us, and in fancy 
we roam again amid familiar haunts, and listen for 
familiar voices we shall hear on earth no more. The 
Swiss general, who takes his soldiers to a foreign soil, 
deems it politic not to encourage the sweet airs of 
Switzerland to be sung in their hearing, lest they 
should be impatient to return to their own green hills. 
The South-Sea Islander, who has exchanged his wil- 
low braided hut for the curiosities of other shores, 
sighs and pines for the Cocoa land beyond the waters 
of the Sea. Years may have passed over him, and 
toil and strife may have crushed him, and his kindred 
may have found repose on the corals of the ocean ; 
yet memory still paints the skies and the scenes of 
his boyhood dreams. And who has not witnessed 



54 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

the happy school-boy, when he quits his task at 
the holidays, the beating of his heart, when, at every 
homeward step, familiar objects greet his eye ; the 
church-spire rises in the distance, and scenes thicken 
fast, associated with earliest recollections ? The old 
trees that he had looked upon so often bend to wel- 
come him. His father's house is just in sight ; and as 
he gets within the door, the embraces, the congratula- 
tions, and the shouts of joy he receives cause him to for- 
get his past toils, and inspire him with new life. There 
have been moments in our experience when as Chris- 
tians we have had similar exultations at the thought 
of going home to our Father^s house above. The 
flowers that blossom there will never fade. The mu- 
sic of the crystal waters that wind along its verdant 
hills will never cease. The clusters of heavenly fruit 
are ever pendent. And the friends that meet there, 
meet forever. It possesses, in absolute perfection, all 
the sympathies and endearments of home — all the 
tender and hallowed associations that can make home 
desirable and attractive. Think of its exemptions. 
No more death, neither sorrow nor crying, for the 
former things are passed away. And think of its 
fellowship. The goodly fellowship of the prophets, 
the glorious company of the Apostles, the noble army 



MANY MANSIONS. 55 

of martyrs^ the faithful, the loveJ^ and the loving of 
every age and clime^ shining as stars in the heavenly 
firmament — fixed stars ; stars that never fall from 
their orbit ; stars that are never eclipsed^ but shine 
brighter and brighter^ and never pass their meridian. 
We might think it a satisfaction could we know in 
what precise region of the universe it has pleased the 
Father to prepare His house for the residence of the 
ransomed. The promptings of our inquisitive nature 
would prefer to be relieved of all conjecture on this 
pointy by being able to fix on the particular planet, 
or portion of the heavens to which the spirits of the 
pious dead arfe wont to wing their flight. If on a 
clear starry night we could look out and point to 
some shining orb, and say, There, that is heaven — 
that is the world where disembodied spirits hold in- 
tercourse with glorified inhabitants, and to which I 
myself expect ere long to be dismissed ; the assured 
information might be deemed a great enjoyment ; 
but whether it is situated within the limits of our 
own system, the sun's orb, some fixed star, or a globe 
so far aw^ay that no twinkling of its glory can reach 
these outskirts of immensity, is a question which In- 
finite Wisdom has not thought fit to answer. There 
is an impression which more or less pervades the 



56 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

mind, and which may be as near the truth as most 
other speculations on the subject. Perhaps it is here. 
Possibly the F ATHER^s-house may be somewhere within 
the confines of our own world. The new heavens and 
the new earth may be close upon us, over and around 
us, superimposed like the atmosphere impalpable to 
the grossness of our senses. The Holy City, the new 
Jerusalem, may be as John saw it in the vision of 
the Apocalypse, come down bright and happy, as a 
bride adorned for her husband. The scenes through 
which we stroll and gaze on beautiful landscapes may 
be peopled with countless happy beings, gathering 
fruit from the Tree of Life, and wandering along the 
banks of the crystal river. Heaven and earth may 
have such close proximity that there is not a mile of 
space between them. They may be so near, that if 
the Lord were to open our eyes, or endow us with 
perceptions adapted to the invisible world, we should 
see holy intelligences happy and glorious. Certain- 
ly there needs only a thin partition to be taken down, 
and, absent from the body, we are present with the 
Lord. 

"Do we look into summer skies, up through the clear bright air ? 
Do we gaze upon midnight worlds, and think our friends are there ? 
And is it well that we should deem our lost ones thus afar ? 



MANY MANSIONS. 57 

Remote from all they loved below, like some cold distant star ? 
The world unseen is surely near ; upon its brink we tread ; 
The angels trace our daily paths, and watch around our bed." 

The Saviour who came from heaven^ and was re- 
turning thither^ could have superceded a world of 
conjecture on this subject if it had seemed to Ilim de- 
sirable ; but that only voice which could put us at 
rest on the point maintained a profound reserve. Yet 
there is a significancy in that reserve which speaks 
volumes. It says^ in effect, Leave secret things to 
the Lord, and attend to the revealed. Make sure of 
your salvation, and that salvation will make you 
sure of heaven. Be children of God through faith in 
Christ, and the Father will, in due time, take you 
to the Father's house. 

In my Father's house are many mansions. The 
allusion is to the priest's chambers that were round 
about the temple. These were mumerous, various, 
well furnished, and used for worship as occasions re- 
quired. There were chambers all around the temple, 
and they formed parts and parcels of the whole su- 
perstructure. It is recorded of Anna the prophetess 
that she departed not from the temple, but served 
God with fasting and prayers, night and day. This 
probably referred not only to her continuing in wor- 



58 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ship^ but to her inhabiting one of those portions of 
the temple to which we have alluded. The Jewish 
Eabbies employ a beautiful expression — mansions up- 
on mansions. Many mansions denote multiplicity. 
The question was once asked, "Lord, are there few 
that shall be saved ?'^ The enemies of Christianity 
would represent heaven as only for a few. But for 
whom did Christ die ? " He gave Himself a ran- 
som for many."' " He bare the sins of many.^' 
What has He pledged Himself to accomplish as the 
great captain of our salvation ? *' To bring many 
sons unto glory.'' "Many shall come from the east, 
and from the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, 
and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of GrOD."' There 
is room in our heavenly Father's house for all who 
will believe. There are mansions, not for St. Peter 
only, not for St. John only, not for St. Thomas only, 
not for St. Paul only, but many mansions — mansions 
for a multitude which no man can number. An im- 
mense throng they appeared to Balaam, when from 
the mountain of Moab he saw Israel from their tents 
With surprise he exclaimed, " Who can count the 
dust of Jacob, and number the fourth part of Israel ?" 
But a nobler vision met the eye of the beloved dis- 
ciple John when he saw an angel ascending from the 



MANY MANSIONS. 59 

east, having the seal of the living God, and when he 
heard the number of the sealed, and found them an 
hundred and forty four thousand of all the tribes of 
the children of Israel. After this he beheld a new suc- 
cession of converts rise up before him. He saw, in 
addition to the Hebrews, an imposing assembly from 
the Gentile world, standing before the throne and be- 
fore the Lamb. And what will be the influx when 
the Spirit shall be poured out from on High, and 
the wilderness shall be a fruitful field, and the fruit- 
ful field shall be counted for a forest ? When the 
Saviour shall take unto Himself the unlimited scep- 
tre which His heavenly Father has bequeathed to 
Him, and shall come forth from His royal chamber as 
Prince of the kings of the earth ? All kings shall 
fall down before Him. All nations shall serve Him. 
The nations of the saved shall enter the mansions of 
the heavenly rest to go no more out. Of these man- 
sions none of them shall be empty. They have been 
filling ever since the death of righteous Abel to the 
present moment, and will continue to fill until the 
consummation of all things. Many shall be priv- 
ileged to enter them who were poor and had no man- 
sion on earth — many who, like their Master, had not 
where to lay their head — many, who were long in 



60 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

doubt whether they should ever reach those bright 
abodes. There are many mansions for those who die 
in infancy^ and who will shine as gems in the medi- 
atorial crown. 

'* Babes thither caught from womb and breast^ 
Claim right to sing above the rest, 
Because they found that happy shore 
They neither saw nor sought before." 

Many mansions imply variety. There is that in 
them which is suited to the circumstances and char- 
acters of all. Just as among the occupants of the 
temple chambers, there were some whose special busi- 
ness was to offer sacrifices ; some to read the law, and 
others to trim the lamps and serve the tables : so, in 
the mansions of heaven there are many ministers — 
an office for each, and room for all. Just as in the 
world of nature, there is one glory of the sun, and 
another glory of the moon, and another glory of the 
stars ; and one star differeth from another star in glory^ 
And as among the angels we read of thrones and do- 
minions, and principalities and powers ; so among 
the glorified we have reason to believe there will ex- 
ist the same diversity — all perfectly happy, though 
not equally endowed. Would we rank among the 
most exalted in heaven, we must belong to the most 



MANY MANSIONS. 61 

humble on earth. Would we stand nearest the di- 
vine throne, we must be the most pure in heart. 
Would we enjoy the largest amount of celestial hap- 
piness, we must drink deepest into the spirit of Chris- 
tian love. Though saved by grace, we shall be judged 
according to character. Spiritual excellence will fix 
the stations to be occupied, the honors to be worn, 
and the felicity to be enjoyed. Different degrees of 
glory will be .proportioned to the motives, zeal and sac- 
rifices with which we followed Christ in the regen- 
eration, and fulfilled our vocation on earth. "They 
that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firm- 
ament, and they that turn many to righteousness as 
the stars forever and ever." 

The many mansions are indicative of splendor. 
The epithet, as applied to stately edifices reared by art, 
is uniformly supposed to designate structures of this 
description. Nebuchadnezzar built Babylon by the 
might of his power, and for the glory of his majesty. 
What, then, must be the glory of that house built by 
the blessed and only Potentate, King of kings, and 
Lord of lords ? All that God does is worthy of Him- 
self. If He speak, a world is created. If He frown, 
a world is destroyed. If He go to war the stars in 
their courses fight against Sisera. If He bless, it is 



62 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

with unsearchable riches. And if He build mansions 
for His people^ they must be of such an order as to 
comport with the dignity of their architect^ and the 
grandeur of their inhabitants. They are not built 
by hands, nor are they constructed piece by piece, as 
mansions are upon earth : for we are told that " If 
our earthly house of this tabernacle be dissolved, we 
have a building of God, a house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens.'^ Almost any thing in 
this world the hand of man can imitate with exquis- 
ite naturalness and skill. He only wants the idea, 
and structures of magnificence and beauty are speedily 
produced of the most symmetrical proportions. But 
life and light cannot be handled. The mansions of 
heaven are mansions of light — as different from all 
material constructions, as the light itself is different 
from the forms of material substances w^hich we see 
around us. They are superior in essence and glory, 
and can have no approximation to them. 

The mansions of heaven are prepared and bestowed 
by Jesus Christ. He is the great Master-Builder. 
And it is said, ^^ they shall hang upon Him all the 
glory of his Father's house.'' He is the true vine by 
which the clusters are supported, and the golden 
chain on which the precious pearls are suspended : 



MANY MANSIONS. 63 

'^ for of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all 
things, to Whom be glory/' 

When He uttered the words, ^^ I go,'' His sacred 
fet stood on the threshold of time. He was just 
about to endure all the agony of His bitter death. 
He might have said, I go to Gethsemane ; I go to the 
High Priest ; I go to the Pretorium of Pilate ; I go 
to Calvary ; I go to glory. But He said, ^' I go to 
prepare a place for you." Accordingly we are re- 
deemed, not with corruptible things, such as silver 
and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, as 
of a lamb without blemish and without spot. The 
Greek Church, acknowledging the sufferings that were 
thereby endured, says, " By thy unknown agonies." 

" It cost Him death to save our lives 
To buy our souls it cost His own 
And all the unknown joys He gives 
Were bought with agonies unknown." 

When we see preparations for any given object 
going forw^ard, our minds naturally rise to the esti- 
mate of the importance of the project according to 
the measure of preparation made. Now, everything 
in heaven bears the mark of preparation. When 
good old Simeon took the child Jesus in his arms, 
he said, " Lord let now Thy servant depart in peace, 



64 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou 
hsist prepared before the face of all people/' The ap- 
proving welcome^ with which the Judge will salute 
his faithful people at the last day, will consist of 
those endearing words : ^^ Come ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world/' We are also assured 
that God is not ashamed to be called our GrOD, be- 
cause He hath prepared for us a city. " Eye hath 
not seen, neither hath ear heard, nor hath it entered 
the heart of man to conceive the things which God 
hath prepared for them that love Him/' 

The Saviour prepares these mansions by having 
gone before. The presence of a beloved friend is al- 
ways a grand preparation for a place, and that which 
gives to it the principal charm. The zest of heaven- 
ly bliss consists in the fact that Jesus is there. And 
to those who truly love Him, He operates as a pow- 
erful magnet in drawing their affections upward to 
their native skies. Indeed, every accession to the 
world above affords an influx to the enjoyment of its 
inhabitants. The pure river of life has its origin in 
the throne of God and the Lamb, but in its progress 
it passes through various channels that contribute to 
swell its streams, and render it more and more delec- 



MANY MANSIONS. 65 

table. Every day causes the tide of joyous emotion 
to rise higher ; and it will continue to do so until the 
last of the ransomed shall be gathered home. View- 
ing the subject in this Ught^ how unaccountable the 
aversion that is felt to the messenger sent to release 
us. If we cherish a dislike to travelling, the prospect 
of home often reconciles us to it, and especially as we 
remember that our dearest friends are there, wait- 
ing to receive us. And if, in the anticipation of going 
home to our Father's house above, the thought of 
leaving some beloved ones behind be painful to con- 
template, we may console ourselves with the reflec- 
tion, that if they are fellow-heirs with us of the grace 
of life, they will soon follow, and that possibly we 
may meet on the road the vehicle destined to bring 
them. Yet a little while, and he that will come shall 
come, and will not tarry. 

The Saviour prepares our rest for us by superin- 
tending the aifairs of the universe, and making all 
things work together to produce the highest ultimate 
good. Though a state of felicity awaits us immedi- 
ately we are delivered from the burden of the flesh, 
yet a larger revenue of glory is reserved for us beyond 
the judgment. Till then many events, both in prov- 
idence and grace, must remain inexplicable. It is just 



66 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

as impossible for us now to understand all the ways 
of God, as it would be to comprehend all the parts of 
some complicated machinery, before it is constructed 
and put in motion. And as our illustrious forerun- 
ner is now engaged in preparing this grand exhibi- 
tion, we must wait till the mysteries of God shall be 
finished, when we shall be fully satisfied, and ac- 
knowledge, "Great and marvellous are Thy works 
Lord God Almighty ; just and true are Thy ways, 
Thou King of saints." 

It adds to the bliss of the inheritance reserved for 
us in yonder heavens, that it is the gift of pure affec- 
tion. Its love-built mansions ; its golden streets ; 
its life-watered paradise are the purchase and gift 
of Immanuel ; the donation and bequest of our dear- 
est friend. With feet no longer defiled, we shall 
tread its radiant pavement, and stand on its glassy 
sea. With fingers no longer awkward, we shall strike 
its sacred harps to notes of highest praise. With a 
Voice no longer tremulous, we shall transmit along the 
echoes of eternity the song of Moses and the Lamb. 
With a brow on which the drops of toil shall never 
burst, and with an eye that tears shall never dim, we 
shall assume a form and a countenance that nothing 
shall mar. With a character on which the stains of 



MANY MANSIONS. 67 

time shall leave no trace^ and a conscience pure enough 
to reflect the image of the Eternal, we shall arrive at 
the very climax of bliss. And these glorious hopes 
we owe to Jesus' dying love. Heaven is doubly dear 
as the purchased heritage of our Blessed Eedeemer. 
Its glory is so heightened when viewed in connection 
with that adorable Friend, that if other mansions were 
offered us, we should be indisposed to accept them. 

We learn from the subject how eminently the 
Lord Jesus deserves our confidence. If in His Fath- 
er's house there were not many mansions, and if 
they were not the home of His people. He would have 
told us. On no subject did He allow His immediate 
disciples to remain in ignorance, when they appre- 
hended things to be different from what they really 
were. ^'All things,^' said He, ^Svhich I have heard 
of my Father I have made known unto you.'' Lov- 
ing and faithful, He manifests a solicitude for our 
welfare surpassing conception. Softly will He wipe 
away every tear from our eyes, and gently will He 
conduct us to seats prepared above. If in His all- 
wise providence He has taken some of our pious con- 
nections to Himself, it is because it seemed good in 
His sight. They are received into heavenly mansions 
They are disposed of infinitely to their advantage 



68 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Our separation from them is only teraporary. There 
is a time of reunion approaching ; ^^ For if we believe 
that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also 
which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him/' 
Some of our most exquisite enjoyments on earth arise 
from interviews with attached friends from whom we 
have been parted ; and the pleasure we feel is in pro- 
portion to the length of time, and the dangers that 
have intervened, between the separation and the meet- 
ing. And what is wanting in our happiness is con- 
tinuance. We have bliss only for a season. The 
heart is checked in the tide of its enjoyment by the 
signal of parting again. The day is followed by a 
night. But there is no night in heaven. There is 
not the shadow of a cloud to obscure the sunny pros- 
j)ects stretching out before us. Adieus and farewells 
are a sound unknown. If the inhabitants had only a 
doubt of their endless happiness, that ghastly thought 
would drink up all their bliss. 

Be fully persuaded that if you rise not to these 
mansions, you must sink to the regions of everlasting 
despair. The Father's house is the children's house. 
Ask yourselves the question, Am I a child of God ? 
Can I say, Abba Father ? Should I be happy in a 
holy place ? Do I delight in holiness now ? Do 1 



PERFECT HAPPINESS. 69 

love Christ ? Is He formed in me the hope of glory ? 
What house am I going to when I die ? I shall go 
to the house appointed for all living. Shall I rise to 
the mansions of the Father's house in heaven ? 



CHAPTER IV. 

PERFECT HAPPmESS. 



The transfer of our immortal spirits to the other 
world is the introduction to the complete, perfect, 
and uninterrupted felicity of saints, which is beauti- 
fully expressed by the beloved disciple, in the words, 
" God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and 
there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor 
sighing, nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
pain/' ''God shall wipe away all tears from their 
eyesy The phrase denotes the ineffable tenderness 
and condescension of God, and the most perfect am- 
ity and confidence of the glorified. It is not every 
one, even in this world, who is qualified for an office 
so tender as the wiping away of tears. It is not 
every one that could venture to take such freedom. 



70 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

To do it in the kindest and gentlest manner is the 
nearest and dearest exercise of affection and friend- 
ship of which our nature is susceptible. It is the 
prerogative of the glorious Jehovah to do it softly 
and effectually. The word means, that he will not 
simply comfort in sorrow, or dry up the tears as they 
start into the eye, but that He will wipe out and ex- 
tinguish the springs^ the very fountain of tears. 
The touch of His gentle hand will be so effectual 
that it will never need to be repeated. It will dry up 
the source of tears that they will never flow again. 
The eye shall never more be moist, nor the counte- 
nance saddened, nor beauty dimmed by their flowing 
there. 

Look where we will in this world, there is no coun- 
tenance on which tears have not found a channel. 
We came weeping into it ; and that man must have 
a very prosperous course, or a singularly hard heart, 
who does not often find occasion, in the course of his 
pilgrimage, to let them drop. Tears there are of dis- 
appointment ; tears of separation ; tears of repent- 
ance ; tears of bereavement ; tears of sympathy. 
Even the holy Jesus w^ept, and thus sanctioned and 
sanctified this briny outlet of human grief. Anxieties 
and vexations of innumerable kinds are our inherit- 



PERFECT HAPPINESS. 71 

ance here. The world through which we pass is a 
vale of tears ; a scene of sorrow ; a dry and thirsty 
land ; a wilderness of sin, where, if the flowers of joy 
are planted, they are planted only to wither ; and 
where the dark, unwelcome cypress of grief is per- 
mitted to flourish and grow alone. '^Hence,^' said 
the Apostle, ^^ we who are in this tabernacle do groan, 
being burdened." We feel desires which nothing 
earthly can gratify ; capacities which nothing created 
can fill ; and longings after purity, and permanence, 
and beauty, and glory, never realized since the foot- 
steps of Adam and Eve were heard leaving the gates 
of Paradise. They wept with their backs tow^ard 
Eden, and their faces toward the wilderness ; but in 
the interchange of sunshine and showier, smiles and 
tears, which blend into one to make up the common 
lot of our daily life ; we have reason to rejoice that 
when we must weep, it is with our backs to the des- 
ert, and our face toward a better Eden to which we 
are hasting. 

In the accomplishment of a journey so rugged as 
ours, and with so much fleetness, it often happens 
that events unexpected transpire, that leave one an 
irretrievable wreck ; and props that were thought to 
be as permanent as the rocks, melt away under mys- 



72 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

terious influences. There is no spot at any point of 
the compass that is sheltered from the blast of the 
storm ; and no pinnacle which, if raised above the 
floods, the lightnings will not scathe. There is no 
period in the com'se of our sojourning, when our dear- 
est friends may not be stricken from us, nor when we 
ourselves may not be called to associate with our 
kindred earth. 

The tears occasioned by bereavements flow copious 
and sad. They are restricted to no circle, and pre- 
vented by no circumstance. They are the experience 
of humanity at large. Our relatives in eternity out- 
number our relatives in time, and the memory of the 
oldest person now living is but the picture-gallery of 
the gi'eatest number of the dead. But in that region 
of undecaying health that is reserved for us beyond 
the gloom of the sepulchre sickness shall not waste, 
nor cares produce a wrinkle on our immortal youth. 
There shall be no more privations of poverty ; no 
more gripings of oppression ; no more mockeries of 
disappointment ; no more rich man's scorn and proud 
man's contumely ; no more achings and languor of 
infirmity, and no more desolation of bereavement. 
All will have passed — all will have gone, never to be 
restored — a Father's hand wiping every drop from 



PERFECT HAPPINESS. 73 

the eye, and takiag every thorn from the heart ; the 
seasons of trial ended ; the grace of character com- 
plete ; purity triumphant, and nothing to mar our 
pleasure or to infix a sting : for the former things 
are passed away. 

The next feature in the composition of future hap- 
piness, and one on ivhich we may fondly dwell^ is 
everlasting exemption from death. "And there shall 
be no more death.^' There is death enough here, in 
every form. There are more graves than houses. 
The inhabitants below the soil are more numerous 
than those who are above it. Death spreads his dark 
v/ings over every object, and makes his hoarse voice to 
mingle with every sound. Every inspiration of eveiy 
breath tells of death ; every throbbing of every heart 
tells of death ; and every beating of every pulse tells 
of death. He is in the palace, in the hall, in the 
hovel, in the country, in the city, in the mountain, 
in the valley, in all soils, in all seasons, in the show- 
ers of spring, in the sunbeams of summer, in the 
ripeness of autumn, in the snows of winter ; noth- 
ing is beyond his reach, nothing beneath his notice : 
there is not an object, not a ^lotion, not a sphere, not 
an event, which does not speak of him. He comes 
forth when we would wish him to be distant. He 



74 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

comes forth from behind the veil, where for a while 
he has enshrined himself in a mask ; and, while we 
are gazing around on the objects of our affection, he 
presents himself in the midst of us, and waving his 
dread ebon sceptre, declares all are his. And none 
can gainsay ; none can deny. The cheek of youth, 
that is lit up with the tinge of beauty to-day, may 
exhibit the pallor of death to-morrow ; and the brow 
that is smooth and beautiful at present will soon be 
grooved with wrinkles like the brown sea-sand, which 
the tide of life is leaving. Life, like water, finds its 
level in the grave. What a Golgotha is our world ! 
And what a variety of funeral processions and cere- 
monies do we continually witness ! The procession 
from the workhouse — no ornament, cold, cheerless, 
sombre, and without, seemingly, any mitigation or 
relief; and the procession from the mansion, with 
all the pomp and paraphernalia of emblazoned rank 
and dignity, in the midst of which there is often no 
tenderness on the part of those who survive. In 
every form, from the highest to the lowest, do we see 
the carrying forth of the dead. And who among us 
has not had the smell of death in his habitation. 
The footprints of death are discoverable in every part 
of creation. The geologist detects proofs of his pres- 



PERFECT HAPPINESS. 75 

ence in the deepest excavations, in subterranean cham- 
bers, in mines, in fossils, in petrifactions, and in 
gigantic remains, as old as the history of the present 
collocation of the earth. The botanist hears annu- 
ally his oft preceding foot-fall in the shrill winds, 
and drooping leaves, and fading flowers. And the 
astronomer thinks he sees in the moon, not the 
beauty of an untainted orb, and an unfallen popula- 
tion, but evidences of gigantic wreck, and wide-spread 
ruin, as if the attendant of the earth had felt the 
shock, and shares in the fallen grandeur of the supe- 
rior planet. But these findings of science, and the 
assertions of Scripture which pronounce all men mor- 
tal, shall cease to have any application in that new 
and glorious experience, concerning which, it is said, 
^^'And there shall be no more death.'' What un- 
measured bliss, may we conceive, would flow into 
aching hearts, if these words were only addressed to 
us now. What a dark and storm-boding cloud would 
instantly roll away from our vision, and what glad 
soiigs would testify our joy when we looked on all 
we loved, and felt it would be ours forever. No more 
death to nature ; her roses and lilies ever bright and 
fair ; her verdant and towering trees, ever shadowy 
and pointing to the skies ; her accordant euphonies 



76 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

never hushed ; her bright luminaries never extin- 
guished, and her fresh fountains and pure airs un- 
changeably the same. No more death to art : the 
colorings of the canvass fadeless and undarkened ; 
the chiselled stone indestructible ; the nicely arrang- 
ed machinery incapable of being corroded, and the 
proud edifice standing secure on its foundation, with 
its pennons ever streaming from its high battlements. 
And no more death to friendship and love. The 
bright eyes and the warm hearts always in unison 
with our own, and sweet unwritten words, and rapt- 
urous unspoken thoughts exchanged and intermin- 
gled, world without end. Were this the case with 
us now, then that dark phantom which is ever follow- 
ing in our track, and nearing us at every step, would 
henceforth vanish froni our path. He would sit no 
more at our table like a mummy at the Egyptian 
feast, nor join again in the dance, changing its light 
footsteps into the slow funeral tread, and thus mingle 
with merry notes the solemn requiem of departed 
worth. Then would life become what it cannot now 
be, so sweet that we would live forever. That would 
be an eternal existence on earth, surrounded, with 
one exception, with the same scenes, and the same 
sounds that now salute us. And really, if such a 



PERFECT HAPPINESS. 77 

life could be desirable, what will be the unspeakable 
bliss of that moment when we fall asleep and open 
our eyes upon all that is sinless and lovely, in a world 
where every loveliest thing lasts longest ; where decay 
lifts never its head above the grossest forms, and matter 
there is all transparent substance ? The flower fades 
not, but every eve gives forth a fragrant light, till by 
degrees the spirit of each flower, essentially consuming 
the fair frame, refines itself to air, rejoining thus 
the archetypal stores where nature dwells in pre-exis- 
tent immortality. The beautiful die never there. 
There are no earthquakes, storms, nor plagues. The 
skies, like one wide rainbow, stand in gold. The 
clouds are light as rose-leaves. And the dew is of 
the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy. The air 
is softer than a loved one^s sigh. The ground is 
glowing wdth all priceless ore, and glistening with 
gems like a bride's bosom. 

There is added yet further in the description, the 
affirmation of the total absence of all the elements of 
sorrow. There shall be no more sorrow ; no more 
secret, silent and retired grief, which dwells in the 
innermost chambers of the soul, and tells no man. 
We are acquainted with persons on earth, of whose 
mental exercises the world knows nothing ; whose 



78 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

troubles are kept in their own bosoms, and whose 
sorrow is unspoken. There are aching hearts where 
no tears are seen. There are records of grief in the 
halls of tapestry and in the chronicles of hamlets. 
There are few, we presume, but have been forced at 
times, and under circumstances of singular misfor- 
tune, to exclaim with the patriarch, '^ All these things 
are against me.'' And even those voices of consola- 
tion that have cheered and sustaint^d us have been 
voices crying in the wilderness, and bearing on their 
wings the wilderness air. Under the most favorable 
aspects — in circumstances of wealth/ honor and free- 
dom — under purple, ermine and lawn, there are 
hearts so heavy that they are saturated with sorrow 
as with the dew of night ; and each heart knows 
best its own bitterness. Many a hand holds a cup 
filled to overflowing, hesitating to lift it to the lips 
that are uttering the prayer, ^^ my Father, if it be 
possible, let this cup pass from me.'' Many a Shu- 
namite woman, when asked the questions, Is it well 
with thee ? Is it well with thy husband ? Is it well 
with the child ? answers. It is well, even when her 
heart is breaking. The sorrows of people are as va- 
ried as their circumstances. There is sorrow at the 
recollection and sense of sin, which may not exhaust 



PERFECT HAPPINESS. 79 

itself in tears, and which is too intense to find outer 
expression. This is that godly sorrow which worketh 
repentance unto life, and needeth not to be repented 
of. When it is felt on account of the hatefulness of 
sin, rather than at its consequences, there is afforded 
the clearest proof that it is the inspiration of the 
Spirit of God. Accordingly there is annexed to it 
the benediction of the Saviour, "Blessed are they 
that mourn, for they shall be comforted.'' Those sad 
moments have not unfrequently been the sweetest of 
our lives, and made us count our light affliction, 
which is but for a moment, not worthy to be com- 
pared with the glory to be revealed. And thus it is 
that we are able to comprehend that expression of 
the Apostle, " As sorrowing, and yet always rejoicing.'' 
The state of mind referred to is a kind of sweet mel- 
ancholy, which is beautifully expressed by Henry 
Kirke White, in the poem, "I am Pleased, and yet I 
am Sad :" 

" Then whence it is, I cannot tell, 
But there is some mysterious spell 
That holds me when I 'm glad ; 
And so the tear-drop fills my eye, 
"When yet, in truth, I know not why 
Or wherefore I am sad." 

The draught we drink here is an earthly compound, 



80 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

but when the ransomed of the Lokd shall return to 
Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads, 
they shall obtain joy and gladness undiluted, and 
sorrow and sighing shall flee away. 



CHAPTEK V. 

THE TREE OF LIFE. 



"In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was 
there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yield- 
ed her fruit every month : and the leaves of the tree were for the 
healing of the nations." 

The beautiful imagery of this passage is extremely 
picturesque and expressive. Earthly objects are se- 
lected by preadjustment and design as shadows of 
the heavenly. The former are dim in consequence 
of the introduction of sin, but they remind us of 
brighter and more glorious things that lie folded up 
in the future, unseen and eternal. The first mention 
of the tree of life occurs in the second chapter of the 
book of Genesis, where it is said, that ^* out of the 
ground the Lord made every tree to grow that was 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 81 

pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of 
life, also, in the midst of the garden." To our first 
parents, in their sinless and unfallen state, its use was 
unquestionably sacramental, intended to confirm their 
faith in the veracity of the divine promises ; to aff*ord 
them a sign or pledge of life so long as they contin- 
ued obedient, and to serve as a symbol of spiritual 
blessings imparted to their souls in much the same 
way as the celebration of our Lord's death tends to 
invigorate our graces, and is a foretaste of a feast to 
come. It is the opinion of some who have given con- 
siderable attention to the subject, that the tree of life 
possessed an innate virtue to perpetuate the immor- 
tality of those who partook of it, independently of 
their having recourse to any other aliment. In sup- 
port of this hypothesis, they quote the passage, ^^ The 
Lord God said. Behold, the man is become as one of 
us, to know good and evil ; and now, lest he put forth 
his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and 
live forever : therefore the Lord God sent him forth 
from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from 
whence he was taken. So he drove out the man ; and 
he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims 
and a flaming sword, which turned every way'' to pre- 
vent any further approach to so sacred an object. As 



82 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

far as we can ascertain, the state of things thus produc- 
ed continued until the deluge. Man was kept in sight 
of Eden, and the flaming cherubim, and the tree of 
life were visible to all who looked. There they stood 
in solemn and silent loneliness, to teach men that, 
having lost their original righteousness, they must 
now be provided with another quite as perfect, before 
they can recover the condition of joy and freedom 
which by transgression they had forfeited. 

The second Paradise is, to all intents and purposes, 
the counterpart of the first, only infinitely more fair 
and beautiful. The scenery is perfect, and the eye 
never wearies in the contemplation of it. The tree 
of life, in the inidst of it, is not a single tree, but a 
species — many trees of the same kind — trees grow- 
ing on both sides of the river, beautifully arranged in 
rows, and bringing forth fruit in abundance. The 
phraseology is similar to that which we should em- 
ploy if we were to say that the cedar tree grows on 
both sides of Lebanon. We should be understood to 
mean, not simply one tree, but numerous trees of the 
same class. There is a passage strikingly illustrative 
of this sentiment in the vision of Ezekiel, ^^And by 
the river upon the banks thereof, on this side and 
that side, shall grow the tree for meat, whose leaf 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 83 

shall not fade, neither shall the fruit thereof be con- 
sumed ; it shall bring forth new fruit according to 
its months ; and the fruit thereof shall be for meat, 
and the leaf thereof for medicine." It would seem 
as though the visions of the prophet Ezekiel and the 
Apostle John were identical. The view of the one 
and the vision of the other coincided. Their minds 
were alike absorbed in reflections on one exalted 
theme, worthy the powers of an angel to discuss with- 
out fear of exhausting it. 

Trees are both ornamental and useful. They add 
a charm to the landscape. And certainly whatever 
the tree of life was to Adam in a state of innocence, 
Christ is to man in his fallen state. Whatever that 
was under the old economy, Christ is infinitely more 
under the new. If that insured life only on condi- 
tion of obedience, Christ bestows that same boon 
through the instrumentality of faith. He that hath 
the Son hath life. All life is treasured up in Christ. 
It exists in Him as in a fountain. It is derived from 
Him. It is imparted by Him. The life that He 
gives is spiritual and eternal, present and future, the 
dawn on earth, the meridian in heaven, Christ is 
emphatically our life, and when Christ, Who is our 
life shall appear, we also shall appear with Him in 



84 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

glory. There is henceforth no death to the Christian 
in its retributive character. '' He that keepeth my 
sayings/' said Christ, ^' shall never see death.'' It 
is not death to fall asleep in the Saviour's embrace. 
It is not death to exchange sorrow for joy, faith for 
sight, and hope for full fruition. It is not death to 
be cheered by the symphonies of angels, and escorted 
to rest. What the Christian feels is only the shadow 
of death. There can be no shadow to an object, un- 
less there be a strong light falling upon it at the 
same time. When the Scriptures speak of the valley 
of the shadow of death, they simply mean our last 
change in the light of the Sun of righteousness. There 
is a shadow for no other reason than because there is 
a light. And if the shadow be dark and dense, and 
dreadful to look at, it is only on account of the light 
being so strong and powerful. There is, therefore, 
nothing in the shadow of death that ought to fill us 
with dismay. Are we alarmed at the shadow of any 
other object ? Are we terrified at the shadow of the 
moon, when that luminary passes between the sun 
and the earth ? The moon itself is far distant when 
its shadow is resting on us. The shadow is an evi- 
dence that the thing itself is not present. Our bless- 
ed Lord has abolished death ; and shall we view this 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 85 

aoolishedj this destroyed things as a formidable and 
terrible opponent ? Death, to the believer is but the 
gate-way of life — life perfect and God-like, sociable 
and companionable, harmonious and unconflicting — 
world without end. 

The position of the tree of life is equally worthy 
our attention. Its situation is in the midst of the 
street of the city, and on either side of the river. 
The details are mentioned with so much minuteness, 
that we are fascinated as well by the evidence of its 
scenery, as by its completeness. Through the midst 
of it runs the river of life, clear as crystal, proceed- 
ing from the throne of God and the Lamb. On either 
side of the river there is a street — one to the right 
and another to the left ; and in the midst of the 
street, extending the whole length, there runs a row 
of living trees, or trees of life, affording an avenue for 
the glorified inhabitants to walk at their leisure be- 
tween the mansions and the trees, and between the 
trees and the river, on either side. 

The lesson taught us by the fact of the tree of life's 
occupying this prominent and central position is, that 
it is not the monopoly of a few, but the privilege 
and possession of all. It is the sacrament of our im- 
mortality, the symbol of our dependence, and the 



86 



TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 



testimony to a witaessing and surrounding universe 
that God, Who is the fountain of being and the 
source of happiness, is accessible to every worshipper 
" The righteousness of God speaketh on this wise • 
Say not in thine heart, who shall ascend into heaven 
that IS, to bring Chkist down from above, or who shall 
descend into the depth, that is, to bring up Christ 
again from the dead. But what saith it ? The word 
IS nigh thee, even in thy mouth and in thy heart ; that 
IS, the word of faith which we preach. If thou shalt 
confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt be- 
lieve in thine heart that God hath raised Him from 
the dead, thou shalt be saved." The mode of access 
to His heart is thus rendered so approachable, and the 
facilities for communion with Him are so abundant 
that if any one stands aloof from the Saviour, the 
cause is wholly and entirely his own. " The same 
Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him-unto 
all that call upon Him in truth." Was He typified by 
the cities of refuge ? There were six of these in dif- 
ferent parts of the land of Canaan, one of which 
could be reached by the guilty man-slayer at almost 
any time. Was He prefigured by the brazen ser- 
pent ? That was lifted high upon a pole in the 
wilderness, visible to all in the Hebrew camp, in order 



THE TKEE OF LIFE. 87 

that any who were hitten by fiery flying serpents, and 
dying of their wounds, might look to it and live. 
Was He shadowed forth by the falling manna ? That 
supplied the Israelites in their march. That was a 
little round thing resembling coriander seed, that fell 
around their tents, and lay upon the ground like 
hoar frost, and all were equally welcome to gather it 
up. Is He a fountain ? He is a fountain opened, and 
whosoever will may wash in it and be cleansed from 
his defilement. There are no difficulties interposed 
between Him and us, except such as are raised by 
our own hands. There are no obstructions but those 
of human creation. The divine mandate simply re- 
quires faith and obedience. " Believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'' " He that 
belie veth and is baptized shall be saved.'' '^ Christ 
is the end«of the law for righteousness to every one 
that believeth." The gate is fiung wide open : why 
hesitate to enter while there is room ? The feast of 
fat things is prepared, and the Master of the feast in- 
vites your participation ; why perish of hunger ? 
The water of life flows copiously at your feet ; drink, 
and it shall be in you a well of water springing up 
into everlasting life. Why resort to other expedients 
when none are required ? Why raise objections when 



88 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

none are interposed ? Why labor when you are in- 
vited to rest ? Why eat of the apples of Sodom, 
when the fruit of the Tree of Life is proffered you ? 
Hearken diligently, and eat that which is good, and 
let your soul delight itself in fatness. 

The fruit of the Tree of Life is both various and 
perpetual. It consists of twelve different kinds of 
fruit yielded monthly. The trees of earth do not gen- 
erally bear more than one kind, according to the par- 
ticular class to which they belong. Men do not gath- 
er grapes from thorns, nor figs from thistles. Were 
we to see a tree bearing twelve different sorts of fruit 
at one and the same time, and continuing this pro- 
cess during the twelve months of the year in succes- 
sion, we should regard it as an object of curiosity 
calculated to awaken attention, and to attract per- 
sons from a distance to look at it. Yet this is men- 
tioned as the remarkable characteristic of the Tree of 
Life, to denote the abundance and unceasing variety 
of all that is good and desirable, and the utter ab- 
sence of all the effects and influences of vicissitudes 
and seasons, and climes, and changes, that are so de- 
structive in the world. Certainly there is enough of 
all the elements of life and happiness for the vast 
multitude of our race who may be disposed to sue 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 89 

for it. It was to promote tlieir salvation that the 
cross was reared on Calvary ; and it is for their legit- 
imate use that the Tree of Life yields its fruit in such 
rich variety. The word fruit is derived from the 
latin /rwor, (to enjoy,) and refers to the blessings and 
enjoyments of the Gospel, as realized in the future, 
when the disagreeable shall have passed, and there 
shall be no condemnation, no curse, no night, no tears, 
nothing that defileth ; the absence of all evil, the en- 
joyment of all good, and the universally recognized 
presence and favor of God. These are some of the 
fruits of the Tree of Life, as enjoyed in the Paradise 
above. They are accessible to the hands and hearts 
of all orders of the glorified, day without night, 
through a long eternity. It is our privilege to receive 
them in part while toiling on earth. We have the 
earnest of them here, as a pledge of their attainment 
hereafter. The first fruits are vouchsafed to us in 
anticipation of an ingathering that shall be final and 
complete. There are snatches of heavenly harmonies 
thrown down to us, to make us long for the eternal 
jubilee. They are mere glimpses of glory, the lift- 
ings of the curtain for a moment, like sheet-lightning 
in the night — permissions to the soul to catch just a 
faint view of its everlasting treasures. Such mo- 



90 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ments are like the clusters of grapes which the Israel- 
ites received as pledges of the riches, the fulness and 
fertility of the land into which they were inarching. 
When the sky is cloudy, and the storm threatens, 
we covet these communications with the greater earn- 
estness. When one wave of trouble follows another, 
and deep calls unto deep, we can look up with seren- 
ity and say, " Yet will I rejoice in the Lord ; I will 
joy in the GrOD of my salvation." The winter fruit 
is thus particularly delicious. It comes to us at a 
time when we are prepared to appreciate it, and to 
enjoy it with a zest. The powers of nature may fail, 
but the supplies of grace are inexhaustible. 

"The Tree of Life, that, near the throne 
In heaven's high garden grows, 
Laden with grace, bends gently down 
Its ever smiling boughs ; 

Hovering among the leaves, 
There stands the sweet, celestial dove, 

And Jesus on the branches hangs 
The banner of His love." 

Need we stronger consolation than this to nerve us 
to endure with fortitude the storms that are incident 
to our pilgrimage ? Need we better assurances that 
the love and faithfulness of our heavenly Father 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 91 

will supply all our need out of His riches, in glory, 
by Christ Jesus. 

The leaves of the tree are for the healing of the 
nations. It is a mistake to imagine that leaves are 
altogether useless. They add to the beauty of the 
locality, and afford by their foliage a charming con- 
trast between the summer's gaiety and the winter's 
gloom. They serve to screen the new-born bud 
from the scorching heat by day, and the cold by 
night. They catch the dew and the rain, and assist 
in the preservation and growth of the fruit. The ori- 
entals were accustomed to make use of leaves in the 
cure of wounds, and they are still regarded as having 
medicinal properties. The leaves of the tree of life 
have accordingly a healing efficacy. They are nu- 
merous, and curative in their influence of the worst 
of maladies. The Sabbath is a leaf. It comes to us 
as a weekly visitor: and there is something so holy and 
beautiful and sweet in all its associations and services, 
that we regard it as a fragment of heaven — an island 
struck off from the continent of eternity, and cast down 
into the roaring torrents of human life. Standing 
upon this island, we can see the sunshine of the bet- 
ter land. It is sunshine, soft and inspiring, wdth no 
flying cloud to cast a passing shadow, and no intense 



92 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

heat to render it desirable. The fields stand dressed 
in living verdure, and the clear waters of life sparkle 
in the sun-beam. There are no hands on the dial-clock 
of eternity. Its very hours are measured by sunshine, 
not by shade. It is very much according to the 
pleasure we feel in our Sabbaths here, that we may 
estimate our fitness for the Sabbath there. The man 
to whom the Sabbaths on earth have no beauty — to 
whose ear the chimes of the church-bell have no mu- 
sic, and to whose heart its deep toned sound comes 
home with no stirring eloquence and force of appeal, 
gives but poor and sorry evidence that he is preparing 
for a sabbath to come. The intention of these our 
weekly rests is to make a little heaven upon earth, to 
hush the din of commerce and husbandry for a space, 
and to bring the passions of men under a healing 
tranquilizing influence for the purpose of a holy for- 
mation of character that shall endure forever. It is 
this view of so sacred an institution that corresponds 
with it as a leaf from the tree of life for the healing, 
of the nations. 

The sanctuary is a leaf. It is the place where God 
has especially promised to dwell, to hear the prayers 
of His devout worshippers, and to give His blessing. 
We do not sufficiently realize our privileged and sol- 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 93 

emn position as servants of Hira to whom cherubim 
and seraphim continually do cry, " Holy, Holy, Holy 
is the Lord of Hosts/' We do not sufficiently real- 
ize our blessedness as fellow-worshippers with the 
redeemed on high, who sing, " Worthy is the Lamb 
that was slain/' We are not mighty enough in 
prayer, nor do we wake up our glory as we ought, to 
sing and give praise. Beloved, let us bestir ourselves 
in worship. Let us make a joyful noise unto the 
Lord — let us serve Him with gladness — let us concen- 
trate our thoughts and our affections, and join zeal- 
ously in the confessions, and supplications, and the 
general thanksgivings ; and let us listen to His word 
with reverence and absorbing attention. And thus 
like the restful activity of the temple above, we shall 
find our moments pass sweetly and swiftly, our facul- 
ties and our feelings refreshed, and our hearts will 
respond with an enlivened consciousness as we retire, 
that it was good to be here. 

The Bible is a leaf Yes, the leaves of God's holy 
hook are the leaves of the tree of life, more to be de- 
sired than gold ; yea than much fine gold, sweeter 
than honey or the honey comb, they deserve to be 
esteemed more than our necessary food ; they are the 
joy and rejoicing of our hearts. There is a compre- 



94 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

hensiveness about the Bible which is peculiarly its 
own. It treats of the majestic and the minute, the 
marvels of the past and the glories of the future ; 
earth's birth, and earth's burial, earth's history and 
earth's doom. There is no wisdom so profitable to 
direct. It is the most potent of any to be acquired : 
and it will develop itself in constantly augmented 
power when the imperfect machinery of human 
schools shall have traversed the globe and be lost in 
its ruins. No matter what the progress and improve- 
ment of humanity may be, the Bible is still in ad- 
vance. It can educate the most instructed, and lead 
the highest of our race to ground yet higher still. 
There is no point from which it can be viewed, but 
it commends itself to our notice as a wonderful book 
and precious. It is the book for the world. The 
world needs it, and it was designed for its benefit. 
Like a healthy current of vital air, it broods over the 
sickness of men, imparting life and vigor and happi- 
ness. The grand engine of civilization is this written 
word. Propagate the tenets of our holy religion as 
here delineated, and a mighty regeneration will soon 
be visible on the face of the community. The un- 
cultivated wastes, which heretofore looked like a 
wilderness, will at once begin to put forth the tokens 



THE TREE OF LIFE. 95 

of a vigorous culture^ and to smile like the garden of 
the Lord. The Sabbath will witness a contented 
and rejoicing population leaving their scattered dwel- 
ings^ and threading their way to the house of prayer, 
each linked to the other by friendship, and all happy 
in the sweetness of domestic charities. Flowers of 
the fairest hues now bloom where all was desert, and 
gems of the richest value are found where all was 
rugged. The wilderness and the solitary places are 
glad, and the deserts rejoice and blossom as the,rose. 
There is an inherent energy in Christianity to make 
it universally triumphant. All Europe, with the ex- 
ception of Turkey, has become Christianized. Every 
island upon her southern and western coast has re- 
ceived the Grospel. Its life-giving sound is heard all 
over this great Kepublic. Nearly the whole of this new 
world, from the few savages that roam over the cliffs 
of Patagonia to the shivering inmates of the snow 
huts of Gi-reenland, has become nominally Christian. 
The West Indies and the Islands of the great Pacific 
are the trophies of its peaceful conquests. Asia and 
Africa are discarding Paganism, and Christianity is 
taking its place. Juggernaut is being disgraced, and 
it is with difficulty that sufficient votaries can be pro- 
cured to drag his decaying car. The Mohammedan 



96 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

power is withered in its right arm. The bell of every 
steamer that plows the Bosphorous tolls the knell of 
its downfall. And every army which encamps on the 
banks of the Indus, or the shores of the Caspian, 
hastens the decay of the delusion that was established 
by blood. When all hearts shall be healed by this 
healing influence — when all men shall be born of 
water and of the Spirit — when all wrongs shall cease, 
and the ties of univeral brotherhood shall be recog- 
nized, then will this world appear again as on that 
bright sunrise, when the morning stars sang togeth- 
er, and the sons of God shouted for joy. One leaf of 
the Bjble, owned and blessed of God, may become the 
fulcrum on which to heave the world ; it may be in- 
strumental in bringing about a series of results that 
shall constitute the new heaven and the new earth, 
wherein dwelleth righteousness. 

To the tree of life so remarkable for its properties 
we are now invited for refreshment and rest. Wea- 
ried in the sunshine we may sit under its shadow with 
delight, and its fruit will be sweet to our taste. It 
proffers fruit to recruit us that neither swings in the 
wind, nor shines in the sunbeam at a distance, but 
which we can reach and gather and appropriate to 
our use. Its fruit is both delicious and satisfying. 



THE RAINBOW. 97 

Its protection is safe and invulnerable. Its shadow 
is refreshing and exhilarating. Its peace passeth all 
understanding. It gives quiet amid storms, an ener- 
gy amid difficulties^ and a hope amid darkness and 
dreariness. There are some trees beneath whose 
shade no useful plant will gi'ow. This is the tree of 
life for all that is good. No one can sit beneath 
it, but straightway his mind is better. There are 
holy feelings and heavenly joys, as the Holy Spirit 
breathes gently on the soul. There is the shaking 
down of mellow fruit, and the flow of healthy odors 
all around. There is the gush of sweetest music, 
whose joyful echoings are not easily explained. 



CHAPTEE VI. 

THE RAINBOW. 



The rainbow is one of those glorious objects in na- 
ture which was intended to impress and console the 
mind ; yet it often fails to awaken any proper atten- 
tion. When it first presented itself to our notice, the 
novelty, the grandeur and the construction of the 



98 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

figure excited our admiration ; but now we seldom 
give it a look, or connect with it a thought, except 
to infer from the time of its exhibition the sts^te of 
the weather. So beautiful a phenomenon, if proper- 
ly contemplated, ought to lead us to set our affec- 
tions on things above, and dispose us the more earn- 
estly to seek an interest in that glorious Being who 
so graciously appointed it. One of the plans of in- 
finite wisdom to draw the heart from an immoderate 
attachment to earthly objects is to enlarge on the su- 
perior character and nobler grandeur of those that 
are heavenly ; to weaken and dislodge the lowlier 
liking by the loftier ; to put out the darker light by 
the brighter, and so to captivate with the charms of 
things above, that things below shall grow pale and 
worthless beside them. The little glow worm shines 
beautifully in a dark, black night, but when the 
morning comes and the sun shines forth, its light goes 
out. The inferior luminary is extinguished and su- 
perceded by the influence of the greater. We can 
only be successful in our dealings with men as we 
act on the same principle. We must not depre- 
ciate to excess the objects of their preference. We 
must not expose them as worthless, but unfold 
the glory, and magnificence, and splendor of heaven- 



THE RAINBOW. 99 

ly things, of which they are unmindful; and bring 
them into juxtaposition with those they love, that the 
poverty and paltry littleness of earthly objects may 
be eclipsed by the intenser splendors and dawning 
glories of the riches unsearchable. 

It is recorded by the Apostle John, that he was 
favored with a vision of heaven, and saw the throne 
of God, and the great and august being who sat on 
it. He saw the radiance that surrounds the Eter- 
nal ; and the rainbow that was round about the 
throne, in sight like unto an emerald. He saw, also, 
the four and twenty elders, with their golden crowns^ 
and white raiment, also the four footed beasts, and 
heard the universal chorus, " Thou art worthy, 
Lord, to receive glory and honor, and power: for Thou 
hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are 
and were created/' The whole of this exhibition is 
deeply interesting, and calculated to inspire lofty 
conceptions of the divine character. We propose to 
consider the phenomenon of the Rainbow in some of 
its most prominent features. May He who appoint- 
ed it as a sign and a seal of the covenant which He 
made with man, give us understanding to improve by . 
the lessons which it is intended to teach. 

The Eainbowis connected with most splendid man- 



100 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ifestation of the Divine glory. It is one of the grand- 
est objects ot nature to engage either the eye or the 
thoughts : and the contemplation of it can scarcely 
fail to prove wholesome and salutary. It is a semi- 
circle of various colors that appears in showery weath- 
er, formed by the reflection of the rays of light upon 
a thin, moist cloud ; the effect of the sun^s rays fall- 
ing on drops of rain, and it never appears but when 
it rains in the sunshine. Its position is always op- 
posite the sun, and only when it is within forty-two 
degrees above the horizon. We may justly say to 
one another what the author of the Book of Ecclesi- 
asticus said many centuries ago : 

" Look upon the rainbow, and praise Him who made it 
Yerj beautiful it is in the brightness thereof; 
It compasseth the heavens about with a glorious circle, 
And the hands of the Most High have bended it." 

While the violet and the rose blush in its beautiful 
aspect, the olive branch smiles in its gracious import 
It unites in radiant dies, what the angels sang in 
harmonious strains, ^^ Peace on earth, and good will to 
men.'" But it is a reflection of more than earthly 
glory. It is an element of the beauties of heaven it- 
self. It glows in that firmament where the sunshine 
is not needed ; but the Lord God and the Lamb 



THE RAINBOW. 101 

beam forth in everlasting splendor. There was a lu- 
minous exhibition of it disclosed to Ezekiel when stroll- 
ing along the banks of the river Chebar. He beheld in 
vision the fire infolding itself, the splendor of the ap- 
pearance of the Shekinah, the visible symbol of the 
divine presence, the four living creatures, the cheru- 
bic forms, the machinery of the wheels, and the scen- 
ery and pomp of the throne : and he tells us that as 
the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud, in the 
day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness 
round about. This was the appearance of the like- 
ness of the glory of the Lord. ^^ And when I saw it," 
he adds, '^ I fell on my face/' The illustrious person- 
age v^hom he saw above, and upon the throne, was 
intended to denote the man Christ Jesus, through 
whom God treats with us, and shows us Himself. 
Christ is the image of the invisible God, the bright- 
ness of the Father's glory, and the express image of 
His person. We see in Him what God really is, the 
perfect representation of Deity, and the perfect speci- 
men of humanity ; the mirror of the glory of the one, 
and the model and standard of the perfection of the 
other. We read also in the book of Kevelations that 
when a door was opened in heaven, for St. John to 
go up and look in upon its glories, he saw a ^^ throne 



102 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

set in heaven^ and One sat on the throne ! And he 
that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine 
stone^ and there was a rainbow round about the 
throne, in sight like unto an emerald/' Now the use 
which we would make of this imagery is this : the 
stern and more exalted features of God's character 
have a softening tinge thrown over them, and are 
made to act in harmonious concert with the arrange- 
ments of mercy. Just as the seven prismatic colors 
of which the rays of light consist are exhibited in the 
rainbow in a distinct state, and yet most wonderfully 
blended together ; just as they maintain their distinc- 
tion, and then melt down into each other by almost 
imperceptible degrees, so the attributes of the God- 
head, separate and yet united, are admirably reflected 
in the person of our blessed Lord. Every attribute 
is a ray, and the several rays put together constitute 
the glory of God, of which the depository is Christ. 
It hath pleased the Father that in Him should all 
fulness dwell. There is in Him, wisdom triumph- 
ing over diflficulties tremendous, solving problems in- 
explicable, punishing sins and acquitting sinners, 
magnifying the law, and yet saving them that broke 
it. There h justice ^ which out of Christ is a con- 
suming fire, transformed into a beautiful light that 



THE RAINBOW. 103 

illumines our pathway to glory, and guides us to our 
Father^s house. There is love^ shining out as it 
never shone before ; its dawn in Bethlehem, its noon 
on Calvary, and its culmination the throne itself. In 
Him mercy and truth meet together, righteousness 
and peace embrace each other. 

The Eainbow is an emblem of peace to confirm our 
confidence in God. The first time that we read of it 
in the Book of Genesis is in tliis covenant relation, 
'^ I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a to- 
ken of a covenant between me and the earth ; and it 
shall come to pass when I bring a cloud over the 
earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud, and I 
will remember my covenant that is between me and 
you, and every living creature of all flesh ; and the 
waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all 
flesh/^ As a memorial of this gracious assurance, • 
written upon the retiring clouds which had rained 
destruction upon the world, the bow is a pledge of 
freedom from such destruction again to its latest day. 
It is the signature of the Almighty to the covenant 
that those tremendous elements, which had combined 
to send the generations of men into watery graves, 
shall never again be ministers of universal death. 
The phenomenon when viewed in itself might seem 



104 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

rather to favor the apprehension that another deluge 
may come. But God in His infinite mercy has chosen 
that to be a symbol of our security, which, apart from 
His promise, would be an intimation of our danger. 
And strikingly does He endear His goodness to our 
hearts by appointing that as a sign, which He de- 
clares shall not only be the means of reminding us, 
but of reminding Him also of His promise. ^^ I will 
look upon it,'" says He. Who could have thought 
that the high and the lofty One would have stooped 
so low .? Who can forget, when he looks on such a 
beautiful arch spanning the heavens, that God is look- 
ing on it at the same time, and that the thoughts of 
the Creator and the creature are thus occupied on 
one theme ? Who does not feel as if the pledge of a 
reasonable, religious, and holy hope were inscribed in 
.the very place, above all others, where the eye would 
most love to see it ? And who can otherwise regard 
it than as affording an eligible opportunity for lifting 
up the heart in adoration and love ? It is an emblem 
of glory for all to see with their own eyes. And it is 
as easily seen by hundreds and by thousands as by one. 
The question as to whether the rainbow had ever 
appeared before the flood is of no material import- 
ance. The climates of the world at that time en- 



THE RAINBOW. 105 

courage the idea that storms were less frequent then 
than now. Thus we find, for example, that there 
was no rain in the garden of Eden ; "but there went 
up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face 
of the ground.^' So long as this state of things con- 
tinued there could have been no rainbow, because 
the mists and the dews gathered during the night. It 
is probable that it never appeared till the days of 
Noah. Certainly it was never before appropriated as 
a divine token. If we admit that the cause existed, 
still it does not necessarily follow that the bow itself 
appeared. Even now, there is not always a rainbow 
when there is rain, and God might have prevented its 
actual occurrence, from a foresight of the moral uses 
to which He designed to have it subsequently ap- 
plied. The grand truth intended to be taught by it 
was the assurance of security against the calamity of 
another deluge. And if the object had not been 
new — if men had been familiar with it in past ages, it 
is difficult to conceive how it could have been suffi- 
ciently efficacious in overcoming the doubts and fears 
which it was designed to remove. It is a notorious 
fact that almost all the appearances in the heavens 
occasion alarm ; and it is quite natural to suppose 
that the rainbow, if it w^ere seen before the flood, was 



106 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

looked upon rather as an object of terror or wonder 
than of hope and joy. If such were the case, then 
the selection of it by the Almighty, as a token of a 
merciful covenant, only proves His condescension and 
grace to be so much the greater. It adds to His 
verbal promise a significant symbol to bring it fre- 
quently to remembrance. Hence we look upon it 
with delight, as the token of a better state and a hap- 
pier kingdom. The bow shows no hostile intentions, 
but just the reverse. It is without a string, and with- 
out an arrow. Its ends are toward the earth, and its 
back is toward heaven. Why is this but to assure 
us that the earth is safe ? Why, except to make 
us feel that God's fuiy has been assuaged, and that 
His thoughts toward us are thoughts of peace and 
not of evil.^ Christ has received all the arrows of 
the Almighty into His own heart. He was wound- 
ed for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniqui- 
ties. G CD's anger is turned away, and He comforts us, 
and makes us dwell in quiet habitations, and in sure 
resting-places. " The mountains shall depart, and the 
hills be removed,^^ says He, " but my kindness shall 
not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my 
peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy 
on thee/' Thus he secures to us a better covenant, 



THE RAINBOW. 107 

established on better promises, and ordered in all 
things and sure. 

The Eainbow round about the throne denotes that 
all the attributes and perfections of Deity are under 
its influence. All His works and waj^s are under its 
benign and gracious sway. It is ever before God — 
always in His sight. There is nothing about it to 
appal us, nothing to keep us at a distance. Majesty 
and glory are softened, and mercy is its significant 
import. The pathway of mercy is depicted by the 
manner in which the bow vaults into the sky, and 
touches again the earth. The Eomans considered it 
the track, up and down which that fatal messenger 
travelled, who came to release a departing soul. As 
St. John saw it, the picture of celestial glory was the 
scene that absorbed his thoughts. One end of it 
seemed to rest on the cross, and the other on the 
crown, thus forming the path along which the Sav- 
iour travelled to the throne of intercession, and along 
W'hich He will come again. It seems to exhibit the 
course of love and mercy which Jesus opened on Cal- 
vary, and which He will consummate at His second 
coming, when the kingdoms of this world shall become 
the kingdoms of the Lord, and of His Christ, and 
He shall reign forever and ever. It is on account of 



108 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

this union of earth with heaven^ this connection of 
the cross with the crown, this oneness of the cruci- 
fied with the glorified, that the Church is called up- 
on to be joyful in her GoD^ because He hath clothed 
her with the garments of salvation. He hath covered 
her with the robe of righteousness^ as a bridegroom 
decketh himself with ornaments^ and as a bride adorn- 
eth herself with jewels. Like the gorgeous coloring 
of the rainbow, in which God dresses out in material 
light this fabric of a world, are those garments of sal- 
vation with which He clothes His saints ; garments 
like Christ's own raiment, at His transfiguration ; 
garments white and glistening, all colors gathered 
into one exceeding whiteness, the reflection of the glo- 
ry of God and of the Lamb. 

The radiance of this grand transformation caus- 
es them to shine resplendently now, in the estima- 
tion of Christ ; yet it is only a mere sparkling of 
the future ; only as the evanescent and transient 
flash of an Aurora Borealis, when compared with the 
permanent splendor in which they shall shine in the 
kingdom of their Father. They shine here, because 
they are shone upon. They reflect not their own light, 
but the light of that Sun of Kighteousness, under 
whose wings there is healing. Viewing all they pos- 



THE RAINBOW. 109 

sess of the creation of His beams, they acknowledge, 
" Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy name give 
the glory/' "Unto Him that hath loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in His own blood, and hath 
made us kings and priests unto GrOD and the Fath- 
er ; to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever/' 
The Eainbow in sight like unto an emerald is sig- 
nificant of the freshness and perpetuity of our bless- 
ings. An emerald is a precious stone, green, beauti- 
ful and durable. Its green color much refreshes and 
strengthens the sight. We have no color so agreea- 
ble as green. Grreen fields and green leaves are nature's 
dress. But all greens are dull in comparison with 
the emerald. Its lustre never changes. It always 
preserves a sensible, moderate brilliancy. We are 
informed in the writings of Ezekiel, that the Tyrians 
traded largely in these jewels in the marts of Syria. 
They probably obtained them from India or the south 
of Persia. The addition of this simile to ihat of the 
rainbow was intended to give emphasis to the promi- 
nent green, that illustrates so beautifully the fresh- 
ness of our blessings. Notwithstanding many thou- 
sand years have rolled away since the economy of 
grace was determined on, it is still as fresh and life- 
some as ever. The Bread of Life, on which so many 



110 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

millions have fed with satisfaction, retains, in the 
fullest perfection, all its nutritious and invigorating 
qualities. The water of Life, with which famishing 
souls have been refreshed, while toiling through the 
dust of the desert, is a well of water, springing up in- 
to everlasting life. The robe of righteousness with 
which the new-born soul is clad, and prepared for an 
interview with the King and His guests, waxes not 
old, and knows no change by changing time. The 
weapons of our warfare, which are not carnal, but 
mighty through God to the pulling down of strong 
holds, are as glittering and successful as when they 
first repelled the fiery darts of the wicked one. The 
Heralds of the cross buckle on their armor as in the 
day when the Apostles hazarded their lives for ^ the 
testimony of Jesus. If Moses die, Joshua succeeds 
him. If Elijah ascend to heaven, Elisha catches his 
mantle, and with it a double portion of his spirit. If 
St. Stephen be taken away with violence, out of the* 
very circle that stoned him Saul is chosen, endued 
with power from on high, to build up the fabric which 
he endeavored to destroy. God buries His workmen, 
and carries on His work. The cause survives, and 
attracts to it new supporters and new advocates. 
There is that in the doctrine of the cross of which we 



THE RAINBOW. Ill 

never grow weary. Its glories are ever telling, yet 
untold. Christ is still before the throne as a Lamb 
that has been slain. The redeemed in heaven never 
forget the atonement. The subject is ever fresh, ever 
studied, ever thought of, ever celebrated, ever gloried 
in, ever sung through eternity. The love of God, in 
its fulness, is as fresh for us to-day, as when it gave 
Christ to be born a helpless babe, in the manger at 
Bethlehem. The offer of mercy anticipates as truly 
and earnestly our acceptance, as when it was made to 
the thief on the cross, to Mary Magdalene and the 
chief of sinners. The poor stray sheep, wandering in 
the woods, hunted by the wolf, falling over the preci- 
pice, is being pursued by the Grood Shepherd who is on 
His way looking out for it, and will find it, and place 
it in the fold, and put it in His bosom, and rejoice 
that the dead is alive again, and the lost is found. 

What pours an equal tide of solace into our hearts 
is the evidence we have^that these blessings are so 
perpetual. The token that guarantees them is last- 
ing, and contrasts very favorably with the evanescent 
continuance of the generations of men. The bow 
which spans the^clouds so luminously, amid the show- 
er and the sunshine, is not like Absalom's pillar, or 
sculptured marble, that crumbles to decay. It is 



112 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

not like the pyramids of Egvpt^ that must fall 
with the lapse of ages. It is not like any of man's 
symbols to create an earthly immortality. It is as 
durable as the world^s elements, proclaiming the mer- 
cy and goodness of God, as long as the heavens shall 
cover us. Time will never sully its splendor. It has 
been looked upon by Abraham, by Noah, by Shem, 
by Ham, by Japhet, by the world's gray fathers, by 
prophets, by Christ, by Apostles, and saints, and 
martyrs, and ten thousand others. It has been' th« 
theme of poets, and the admiration of the world from 
age to age — ever fresh, and never wasting. The de- 
scription given of it by Campbell is both chaste and 
beautiful : 

" Triumphal arch that fills the sky. 
When storms prepare to part ; 
I ask not proud philosophy 
To teach me what thou art. 

** When o'er the green, un deluged eanh, 
Heaven's cov'nant thou didst shine, 
How came the world's gray fathers forth 
To watch thy sacred sign. 

" How glorious is thy girdle cast 
O'er mouEtain, tower and town ; 
Or mirrored in the ocean vast, 
A thousand fathoms down. 

** As fresh in yon horizon dark, 
As young thy beauties seem, 



THE RAINBOW. 113 

As when the eagle from the ark 
First sported in thy beam. 

" For, faithful to His sacred page, 
God still re-builds thy span ; 
Nor lets the type grow pale with age, 
That first spoke peace to man." 

Peace to man is the holy lesson which it is ever 
preaching to us — peace on earth, peace in the heart, 
peace with God, are the truths of which it is a sign, 
to convince us how ardently the loving GrOD is long- 
ing to save us. No matter if the clouds be black, 
and the shower falls heavily, and the thunder rever- 
berates along the mountain gorges, and the lightnings 
flash, we look up and read the promise of protection 
in the immutability of the covenant, and the cove- 
nant memorial of a loving Parent. The inherent sus- 
picion of man's heart is that God lies in wait to de- 
stroy him. It is for the purpose of overcoming this 
difficulty that types are suspended in the sky, sacra- 
ments are continued in the Church, and promises and 
oaths are echoing in the sacred volume. All are in- 
tended to assure us that the Lord has no pleasure in 
our death, and that He loves, not hates. The pres- 
ence of the Bible among us to-day ; the existence of 
divine institutions, and our returning Sabbaths are 
sure and eloquent signs that the Lord is gracious. 



114 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

Christianity is the expression of God's loving kind- 
ness. It is Christ unfolded. All its appliances are 
simply a medium for the transmission of His light, 
and life and love to us, in their purest, softest and 
most beautiful effect. They are the rays of pure 
light refracted and reflected from heavenly objects so 
gently that the eye may look on them, and not suffer 
by excess of brightness. The manger, the crown of 
thorns, the cross, the grave, the resurrection, are ob- 
jects on which the Sun of Eighteousness throws His 
rays in rainbow colors. The dispensation under 
which we live has emphatically a rainbov^ character. 
It is the blending of the heavenly with the earthly, 
the softening down of the transparent light of heav- 
en into the shape of mercy ^ which is communicated 
to the chief of sinners — the melting down of that 
flood of glory, which is the pith and essence of heaven, 
into the form of grace to unfold itself day by day, 
as months and years increase, till it leads again to 
fruition. We are taught by the rainbow that it is 
the will of God that Bible truths should be embod- 
ied ana set forth in emblems. We are creatures of 
sense, and need something to help us through the aid 
of the senses, to the enjoyment of the thing signified. 
This is the whole philosophy of the sacraments of our 



THE KAINBOW. 115 

holy religion. God needs no such signs Himself, but 
we do, and He gives them to us as privileges to im- 
prove. Faith sees a meaning in signs which fills her 
with joy unspeakable. She finds her way through 
them up to the Father of lights, and becomes stead- 
ier and stronger. Every time we receive the com- 
munion of the body and blood of Christ, we cast our 
eyes upon the sign of an everlasting covenant. And, 
like the bow that is seen in the cloud, it is not only 
the memorial of a past transaction, but the pledge of 
a future joy. It is not simply retrospective, but pros- 
pective. While it is a feast for faith to feed upon, it 
is a spot in her ascent for hope to rest upon. It is to 
be observed in commemoration of the death of Christ, 
and to show forth that death till He come again. 
The Lord's Supper overarches the past and the fu- 
ture. It connects the Saviour who came to suffer, 
with the Saviour who will come to reign. If there 
be one festival in the month greater than another, it 
is certainly on communion days ; and if there should 
be bounding hearts at any time, it should be when we 
celebrate the love that suffered for us, and look upon 
the symbol that tells us of wrath that has passed 
away, of sunshine that gilds the valley where we are 
sojourners, and that sprinkles with his beams the 



116 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

everlasting hills, beyond whicli is our home, and our 
heart, and our treasui'e. 

Brethren, place your whole trust and confidence in 
God's mercy. Despair, never again. Look up and 
bless God for that written signature in the heavens. 
Turn your contemplations to it as a reflection of that 
innermost glory which mortal eyes are too weak to 
look upon. Kegard it as the symbol of your choicest 
blessings, illuminating your darkest dispensations, 
and turning the shadow of death into the joy of the 
morning. Connect it in your minds with the love of 
God to man, with the cross of Calvary, with the 
throne of intercession, and with the splendor of heav- 
en. Associate it w4th gems of the highest value, with 
pearls of the greatest price, with all that is beautiful 
on earth, with all that is lasting and glorious beyond 
the grave. Pray God to write this remembrance of 
His love indellibly upon your hearts, that no token 
of hope in the heavens may ever be denied you, and 
He shall have the last accents of your faltering lips, 
and the first notes of your celestial harmony. 



CHAPTEK VII. 

THE THIKGS ABOVE. 



Set your affections on things above; not on things on the earth. 

There are plants in your gardens whose property is 
to' stand perfectly erect^ in their own sturdy self-suffi- 
ciency ; and there are others of a frailer texture that 
have tendrils, and take hold with their hands, and clasp 
and climb whatever may chance to be in their way. 
The soul of man, in some particulars, is very much 
like the last. It is not strong enough to stand alone. 
It has no resources of its own that are adequate to its 
support. It is of an out-going, exploring character. 
It is a clasping, clinging soul that seeks acquaintance 
with other objects over which to spread itself. Its 
efforts are unwearied to find something in the heights 
or in the depths, in sunshine or in shade, that shall 
minister to its support. One man, in the delirium of 
excitement, grasps a glittering prop, and it pierces 
him through with many sorrows. Another embraces 
the compass of a broader surface, that commands all 
that heart can wish, and it suddenly and unexpectedly 



118 THE THINGS ABOVE. 

drops from him^ and he falls dejected and helpless. 
Others, whose name is legion^ seek the living among the 
dead; by forming mutual friendships and alliances, 
that are alike impotent to meet the cravings of a na- 
ture so leaning and loving. The longings of the soul 
are upward, not downward. They need a larger area 
over which to expatiate and diffuse the affections. 
There is, accordingly, above this weedy world anoth- 
er in reserve, of purer cultivation. To that the Apos- 
tolic injunction refers : " Set your affections on 
things above ; not on things on the earth.'' The con- 
stitution of man is such, that he must set his affec- 
tions on something. We might as well expect him 
to cease to live, as to cease to love. Love he must. 
And his excellency and happiness consist in loving 
God with all his heart, and soul, and strength. 

It was not the intention of the Apostle to prescribe 
for the extinction of the affections for sublunary ob- 
jects ; but rather for their refinement and elevation, 
and application to such as are good and glorious. As 
if he had said, be not stoical and devoid of feeling ; 
be not the epicure, and love the sensual. Be the 
Christian, and love the beautiful. Labor not so much 
for the meat that perish eth, as for that which endur- 
eth unto eternal life. Exercise the affections on such 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 119 

things as are pure and lovely, and of good report : 
set them on things above. 

The tilings above are supreme. Did men only fet-l 
this as strongly as they theoretically admit it, they 
would evince a more ardent solicitude to transfer their 
affections from the paltry littleness of earth, to the 
intenser sj)lendors and dawning glories of the world 
to come. It is but seldom that any one of our tastes 
can be made to disappear by the mere process of nat- 
ural extinction. The thing can only be done by the 
application of something else, to which we may feel 
the adhesion of stronger and more powerful prefer- 
ences. The grasping tendency of the heart must have 
some object to lay hold of, which, if wrested away 
without the substitution of something better in its 
place, would leave a void and a vacancy as painful as 
hunger and thirst. Breathing and sensitive beings, 
without attachments, would be in a state of cheerless 
abandonment, alive to nothing but the burden of their 
own consciousness, which they would feel to be in- 
tolerable. Whether in the gay and bustling world, 
or beyond the out-skirts of creation, they would be 
solitary dwellers in a dark and unpeopled nothingness. 
The heart will not consent, under any circumstances, 
to be so desolated. It will never so denude itself of 



120 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

attachments^ as to have nothing left to fascinate and 
engage it. It will revolt against such utter empti- 
ness and cheerless insipidity. The main difldculty 
lies in loving things innocent in themselves inordi- 
nately. The best way to expunge this immoderate at- 
tachment^ is to prevail upon the heart to admit into 
its preference other and better loves that shall sway 
its ascendency. It is to select, and hold up before 
the mind, the worth and excellence of heavenly things, 
that shall be felt to be inconceivably more attractive 
and profitable. Hence, to subdue in our hearts the 
love of the world, we must keep ourselves in the love 
of God. And to keep ourselves in the love of God, 
we must build ourselves up in our most holy faith. 
It will thus be felt that the love which fulfilleth the 
law will expel and dispossess the love that transgress- 
eth the law. 

The plan will approve itself to your judgment, if 
you conceive a person standing on the margin of this 
green earth, looking out on the abundance that smiles 
on every field, and the blessings so profusely scattered 
through every family — the pleasant sunshine sweetly 
resting upon all human habitations, and the joys of 
companionship brightening the circles of society. Con- 
ceive this to be the general character of the scene up- 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 121 

on one side ; and on the other, beyond the verge of 
this goodly planet, nothing could be descried but a 
dark and fathomless unknown ; would that person, 
think you, bid a voluntary adieu to all the brightness 
and sunshine, and commit himself to the frightful sol- 
itude away from it ? Would he choose to leave hap- 
py homes and peopled dwellings, to become a solitary 
wanderer through the fields of nonentity ? Would 
he abandon the scenes of life and cheerfulness that 
lie so close at hand, to roam over the wilderness of 
space ? Eather would he not cling with tenacity to 
the regions of sense, and shrink with horror from the 
destitution beyond. But if, during the time of his 
contemplation, he should happen to see some happy 
island of the blessed floating along, and catch a 
glimpse of its surpassing glory, and hear the sounds 
of sweetest melody, and perceive that there was 
a purer beauty, and more heart-felt joy, and more 
bounding gladness and rejoicing sympathy on the part 
of its inhabitants ; and if he could see the absence 
of all sorrow and death, and the signals of welcome 
hung out, and hear the accents of warm and press- 
ing invitations, calling on him to cross over and join 
them — ^if he saw and heard all this, what a mighty 
revolution, may we suppose, would take place in his 



122 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

views and feelings. The tendency of his aftections 
would thenceforth be for the new sphere, and the bet- 
ter world that stood revealed in the prospect. Old 
things would pass away as dim and worthless, and all 
tilings become new and attractive. Quite analogous 
to this is the influence of things above, to dispossess 
and dislodge the affection for things below. The in- 
stant they are seen, they are felt to be supreme — cast- 
ing all else into the shade. Christ is no longer as a 
root out of a dry ground, having no form nor come- 
liness, but the chief among ten thousand, and the al- 
together lovely. The scenes of life and glory, so 
attractive, lie in the light of His countenance ; and 
the songs of its rejoicing, from blest voices without 
number, laud Him Lord of all. 

The things above are ennobling. The man who is 
conversant with them walks with princes — treads the 
earth as an heir of heaven, and has joys w^hich the 
world can neither give nor take away. The glittering 
lures and seducing pleasures of things on earth appeal 
to the senses, and are debasing. They are liable to 
that loss of power which is the result of the decay of 
the senses, and the decline of animal strength. Every 
indulgence of a carnal appetite increases the desire 
for new stimulants, till that which was at first only 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 123 

a mere excitement becomes a confirmed habit ; and 
increased stimulants are called into requisition to 
meet the feverish cravings. Pleasure, at length, 
palls on the senses ; and as the desire continues after 
the susceptibility of pleasant emotions ceases to exist, 
there is left an aching vacuum which the things of 
earth are unable to fill. The period comes when the 
senses lose their power, and a few embers of vitality 
are all that remain. These are fanned into a flame 
that will not go out, and thus the thirst for pleasure 
continues, even when the system is too far gone to 
allow of its being realized. Though at the first the 
feast of worldly pleasure is inviting, at the end it offers 
nothing but the dregs of bitterness. Eefine it as you 
may, that which springs from earth, and centres in it, 
is debasing to the soul. Every desire that looks not 
to eternity for its rule leads ultimately to the conclu- 
sion of Solomon, '^ Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.'" 
We would hold up to reprobation any course of life, 
of whatever peculiar feature, which is founded upon 
principle opposed to faith in Christ Jesus, or which 
flows, without principle, in a direction contrary to 
His solemn warning and wholesome precepts. To 
those who are governed by worldly maxims, and are 
resolved to live without religious restraint, either hop- 



124 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

ing for a settled faith before death, or being reckless 
of future punishment, we exhibit the strong contrast 
between the character and end of worldliness, and the 
joys and consolations which the Saviour gives. The 
one mocks and betrays — the other comforts and 
cheers ; the one ministers to man's baser nature — 
the other meets the wants of his better part ; the one 
is madness — the crackling of thorns under a pot ; the 
other is happiness, pure, abundant, genuine — the 
calm of the heart, the content of the mind, the sun- 
shine of the soqI. 

The things above are cliangeless. The region of 
change and vicissitude is here. The realm of change- 
lessness is there. 

" There everlastiDg spring abides, 
And not a withering flower ;" 

Not a leaf fades ; not a flower wilts, not a fruit cor- 
rupts ; but all is fair and beautiful, in unshaded and 
unsuspended glory. 

The loveliest things on earth are the fleetest. The 
objects we most love are the most speedily snatched 
from us. In heaven they are above change, above 
storm and tempest, above death. The last flame 
will pierce all fire-proof boxes, calcine all title-deeds, 
and reduce to ashes the homes we have reared and 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 125 

cultivated. But neither flame nor flood, nor evil in 
any form, shall reach that better land. The things 
laid up there are beyond the reach of the destroyer — 
safe from moth, and rust, and thieves that break 
through and steal. 

The best that earth has to bestow is necessarily 
short-lived, and perishes with the using. All is 
change ; and it is change for the worse, till the de- 
sires of the soul are fixed on things unseen and eter- 
nal. They who give themselves up to the fleeting 
good will sooner or later find their clear sky overcast 
with clouds. As a Christian poet has beautifully said, 

*• The heart of childhood is all mirth ; 
"We frolic to and fro, 
As free and blithe, as if on earth 
Were no such thing^ as woe. 

**But if we trust the flattering voice 

Which whispers, * Take thy fill, ere death, 
Indulge thee, and rejoice;' 

** Too surely every setting day, 
Some lost delight we mourn ; 
The flowers all die along our way, 
Till we, too, die forlorn." 

Such is the deceitfulness of the world to those who 
trust it — all a cheat, leaving its votaries unsatisfied 
in their cravings, helpless and desolate. The poten- 



126 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

cy of Christian faith, alone, can make it tolerable. 
It belongs to the influence of the cross to raise one 
above it. This is like the tree, which, when it was 
cast into the bitter waters of Marah, the waters were 
made sweet. It converts thorns into flowers that 
freight the air with perfume along the Christian's 
path. It makes the way of life, though steep and 
rugged, soft and smooth as the greensward. And 
the descent to the grave it strips of all its terrors. At 
the very moment when the lover of pleasure discovers 
the trick by which he has been duped, the believer, 
strong in faith and rich in hope, sees the fulness of 
the Gospel promise almost within his grasp. The 
nearer he approaches to the close of life, when the 
worldling finds only vanity and vexation of spirit, so 
much the nearer is he to eternal blessedness in the 
kingdom of heaven. The last ray of his setting sun 
casts a halo of brightness around the gloom of the 
sepulchre, and invites him to go down, trusting in 
that precious Saviour, Who will raise him up again. 
The things above are our own. The Saviour has 
made the purchase with His own blood, and be- 
queathed them to us as His last will and testament. 
The elder brother has gone to take possession of the 
estate, in the name of the family, and to make the 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 127 

necessary arrangement for our arrival and reception 
among the denizens that are there. If they did not 
belong to us^ as our legitimate inheritance, the com- 
mand would not have been given to set our affections 
on things above. We may not covet what is the 
property of another, without violating the express 
injunction of the Almighty, as expressed in the tenth 
commandment. The Apostle says, " All things are 
ours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the 
world, or life or death, or things present or things 
to come : all are ours, and we are Christ's, and 
Christ is God's.'' This is an inventory more valua- 
ble than all the mines of Peru, the corals of the 
ocean, and the crowns of all the kingdoms of the 
earth. The matter of astonishment is, that being 
heirs of such a rich heritage above, we should be so 
slow in pluming our wings for the flight of its ever- 
lasting possession. ^^ Tell me," said a saintly minis- 
ter of the Church of England, whose star but lately 
set on this world, to rise and shine in better skies — 
^^ tell me," he said to his physician, " the true state 
of my case ; conceal nothing" — adding as his eye kind- 
led, and his face beamed at the thought — "if you 
have to tell me that my dissolution is near, you could 
not tell me better or happier news." 



128 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

The things above are daily and hourly growing 
in importance. The longer we live, the more lively- 
interest ought we to feel in them. The changes that 
have already occured in the brief space of our history 
are enough to startle and sadden us. We launched out 
upon life an unbroken company. Brothers and sisters 
and friends and lovers were with us : and each one 
was as the charmed centre of a circle, where the heart's 
affections were aglow, and whence they radiated on 
society outward. The prospects of life were exuber- 
ant with joy and hope. The earth looked fair, and 
sparkling with dew-drops ; and but few shadows had 
fallen upon it. But when a few years had passed 
away, the home centre was removed. The circle on 
earth grew less. It was broken, and broken again; and 
every break made it narrower and smaller. About 
the time our sun reaches his meridian, the majority 
are on the other side of the river. The circle there 
belonging to us, is as large as the one here, and we 
are drawn contrariwise, and vibrate between the two. 
We wait a little longer, and almost all have crossed 
over. The balance settles down in the regions of 
eternity. The centre is removed to the upper sphere 
At length an aged pilgrim stands alone on the river's 
banks, lookingly earnestly toward the country where 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 129 

reside his best friends — his most costly treasures, and 
to which he has been daily taught to give his best 
affections. 

The picture has some features in common with the 
history of all old men. Tell me, are not the places 
of your boyhood peopled by other beings .? Is not the 
school-house, that was once so familiar to you, bright- 
ened by other faces ? Is not the University or the Col- 
lege, where you graduated, crowded by other students ? 
Are not the old men that you knew gone to their 
long account ? And along the streets — are there not 
rushing new currents of your fellow-men, who know 
little or nothing of your history, while the sick and 
infirm, and dying are urging you to set your affec- 
tions on things above ; not on things on the earth ? 

Affection for things above is the surest road to suc- 
cess with things below. '' Seek first the kingdom of 
God, and His righteousness, and all other things shall 
be added unto you/' If you will take the trouble to 
observe the operation of this law, you will generally 
find that those who rigidly adhere to it, in setting 
their hearts upon the g:reat business of religion, as 
paramount to everything else, are the very persons 
who get on best in the world. They have success in 
the enterprises in which others meet with disappoint- 



130 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

meiit. They have compensatory enjoyments^ which 
make them feel that, having God for their portion, 
they possess all things. The fountain of happiness 
lies not so much in the acquisition of property, as in 
the state of the heart. And when the heart is holy 
and happy, irradiated by the sunshine of the Divine 
favor, the little quarter of an acre of land that is 
cultivated as a garden, and the little cottage in the 
midst of it, is more full and communicative of hap- 
piness, than the large estates of the irreligious and un- 
sanctified. Set out with the determination to serve 
GrOD supremely, and whatever your exigencies require 
will eventually be added. Steer your course by heav- 
enly lights, and you shall walk in your way safely, 
and your feet shall not stumble. But venture to re- 
verse the order of God's appointment, and seek your 
own things first, and the probability is that you will 
miss both. 

Set your affections on things above, is God's mes- 
sage to men indiscriminately. The Church, which is 
His mouthpiece on earth, always, and everywhere 
proclaims it. The tone of her ministry, in each of 
its orders — the complexion of her services, their sev- 
eral departments, and the intention of her festivals 
and fasts and communion seasons, are all directed to 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 131 

the one great object of assimilating us to the image 
of the heavenly, as we have borne the image of the 
earthy. Set your affections on things above, is the les- 
son of adversity. No matter in what shape it may as- 
sail you, good will be brought out of evil ; C heist will 
sanctify the trial to the well-being of your soul. 
Whether it be the loss of wealth, health, or friends, 
the consolations of the Gospel will make it tolerable. 
If wealth has been suddenly wrested from your grasp, 
and the friends who were attracted by its glitter have 
followed its flight, the heavenly Counsellor, who 
smites with one hand is present to heal with the oth- 
er, admonishing you, in accents of tenderness, to seek 
your treasure on High. 

Set your affections on things above, is the voice of 
bereavement. When the snatching away of some 
loved one has frozen the warm current that once 
mantled your cheek, will the counsel of worldly wis- 
dom warm it into its wonted glow .^ A smile may flit 
across the features whereon despair has fixed her seat ; 
but 'tis the moonbeam glancing o'er a statue — the 
pale glow of light without the warmth that betokens 
life. Philosophy, cold and cheerless, may say to you. 
Drink of the waters of sweet oblivion ; Dwell not in 
the region of sorrow. Earth has many paths that 



132 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. " 

tempt to dalliance. Flee from the house of mourn- 
ing, and mingle in the careless world. Oh mockery 
of peace ! Deafen your ears against such counsel. 
Despise not the chastening of the Lord, neither faint 
when thou art rebuked of Him. Listen to the ten- 
der, soothing tones of His voice, ^^ Thy brother shall 
rise again.'^ Did you love the lost one more for the 
lineaments of the Savioub's image stamped upon 
his soul.^ Then was the tie not merely one of flesh 
and blood, but of spirit which still exists — a golden 
chain, which binds soul to soul, and both to heaven. 
Give, then, to the earth her tribute — the dust to dust, 
and commune with the soul which God has taken, 
in the unity of the Spirit — the communion of saint- 
ship in the Lord. 

Only by setting your affections on things above can 
you be prepared for their ultimate enjoyment. The 
taste must be formed by the cultivation of those mo- 
ralities of heart and life which give to heaven all its 
gladness. One could no more rejoice in the prospect 
of future blessedness, without a preparation for it, 
than he could enjoy the idea of entering for life upon 
a foreign land, whose government and customs and 
people were everyway opposed to him. With things 
above you must become familiar on earth : you must 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 133 

become members of Christ's Body^ the Churcli. 
You must feel a strong sympathy with His cause. 
You must be made meet for the inheritance of the 
saints in light. 

It is an obvious law in all earthly things, that there 
must be adaptation of the sphere of life to those who 
are in it. In other words, there must be a fitness be- 
tween the place and the inhabitants. The eye, for 
example, is nicely fitted for the light that falls upon 
it. But if that light were to stream in with greater 
velocity than it does, the eye could not bear it. If 
it were less than it is, it would not be sufficient. 
There is of necessity such an exact and beautiful con- 
nection between the eye and the light that comes 
from the sun, that it is evident the one must have 
been adjusted to the other. 

The same with the ear, which was made for the 
voice. And the voices of men are generally of that 
pitch and tone that exactly suits them for the ordina- 
ry ear that listens. If our voices were more power- 
ful than they usually are, they would occasion acute 
pain to the organ of hearing ; and if they were less 
so, they would rfot be distinctly audible. There is a 
wise adaptation between the ear and the melodies and 
harmonies of the world around. Now if man were 



134 TWILIGHT AND DAWNING. 

elevated to another sphere, where the atmosphere and 
composition of the planet are of a different density 
from the earth, he would require a different constitu- 
tion and organization to enable him to exist. If he 
were transferred to another orb, with his present 
senses of seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling and touch- 
ing, he could not live in it ; he would find the air not 
suited to his respiration. The whole apparatus of his 
physical organization must be altered before he could 
become an inhabitant of Jupiter, Saturn, the moon, 
or any other planet. That which holds true in phy- 
sical things, does also in spiritual. Would we enter 
a better world, breathe a better atmosphere, hear bet- 
ter sounds, come in contact with better objects, and 
behold intenser splendors, and brighter visions, we 
must be prepared. We must be renewed in the spir- 
it of our minds. It is a mistake to imagine that 
death will work the necessary change. This will do 
nothing more than transfer — not transform. It pre- 
sents man before God just as he dies, and simply 
fixes what he has acquired upon earth. If death 
finds us unsanctified and unholy, it hurries us before 
God in this condition ; and the Judge Eternal says, 
Let him that is unjust be unjust still, and let him 
that is holy be holy still. 



THE THINGS ABOVE. 135 

Hence the great importance of preparation on earth, 
to adapt ourselves — to fit ourselves for the company 
of the Kedeemed. The transfer at death merely 
exchanges a temporal for an eternal state of existence. 
Let US; therefore, educate ourselves in heavenly things, 
let us set our affections on things above, that when 
our LoKD shall call, we may be ready to become meet 
partakers of those heavenly treasures. 



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It is a pretty and ingenious idea thus to collect some of the threefold subjects 
of Holy Writ ; and I am sure many will be edified, as I have been, by reading 
what the piety and industry of my brother has suggested, so happily, in the "Sacred 
Triples. — [A. Cleveland Coxe, D. D., Bishop of Western New York.] 

It is well calculated by its pleasing and easy style, and above all, by the warmth 
and unction of the truth presented in it, to reach and influence the hearts of all who 
read it. — [Samuel A. McCoskry, Bishop of Michigan.] 

The work is everything which any one anxious for the spiritual improvement of the 
reader could demand, and at the same time thoroughly Churchly in its tone. — 
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The descriptive powers of the author are more than ordinar^^, and every page is 
rich in spiritual evangelical teachings. — [Episcopal Recorder.] 

The style is as beautiful as its contents are delightful and Instructive. In neither 
respect have I ever seen its superior in the Enslish language. — [L. Haughton Aber- 
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These are three lectures on the characteristic incidents of the several countries, and 
the pleasing and instructive features connected with them. In a very attractive 
style they indelibly impress upon the mind of the reader the oudine of the country. 
To quote testimonials would be an almost endless work ; it is only necessary to say 
that they were delivered hundreds of times before crowded houses, and received the 
highest commendation. " Interesting and instructive, rich in sentiment and chaste 
in language, eminently calculated to improve both the head and heart." — " Graphic 
in its descriptions, clothed in language felicitous and forcible." — "A clear and judi- 
cious, as well as elegantly written description." — "Simple', elegant and lucid, well 
calculated to inform and to please." These are some extracts from the hundreds of 
commendations received. 

AGENTS ^WANTED. 



,t it 




First Thousand. 

Bound in Cloth, Handsomely Lettered in Gold. 

PRICE $2.00. 

ORDERS RESPECTEUELY SOLICITED. 



Wethersfield Springs, N. Y. 



L W, APPLEGATE. 

The first part of this work is designed to illustrate the time in the Christian's life, 
when he is standing on the brink of the river of death, soon to be borne to the oppo- 
site shore. The latter part treats of the glimpses of the new Jerusalem, which have 
been given us in the " Revelation of St. John the Divine." As the former part illus- 
trates the EVENING of our mortal existence, so the latter looks upon the dawning 
(which is indeed glorious) of the entrance into life eternal. 

The chapters of this work will be found very interesting and instructive to the 
devout reader. 

AOENTS V/ ANTED. 



Second TlioTisand. 

Bound in Cloth, Handsomely Lettered in Gold. 

PRICE $1.00. 

Orders respectfully solicited. 

Wethersfield Springs, N. Y. L. W. APPLEGATE. 



Any one who liss read Mr. Applegate's previous volume, "The 
Voice of Sacred Triples," will not fail to read the present one. It 
explains in a loving, tender way, the preciousness of that great gift 
which we received from our loving Father in the person of his son, our 
Saviour. It is a fitting companion for the Christian in his hours of 
meditation and devotion, and will aid him on his journey heavenward. 
[Gospel Messenger.] 

The '* Sacred Triples" will prove a help to the christian life ; and 
the "gift " will, I am sure, show clearly the preciousness of the gift 
which we have in Christ our Lord. — [Rev. Wm. N. Irish, Lowville, 
N. Y., Edward Ingersoll, D. D., Rector of Trinity Church, Buffalo, 

N. Y.] 

AGENTS V/ ANTED. 



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Treatment Date: Oct. 2005 

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